FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES 

BY 

CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON 

Each one volume, lar^e 12mo, illustrated, 
$1.50 

FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS 
FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS 
FAMOUS SCOUTS 
£2 

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 

53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. 




SHOUTS AND FIERCE CRIES WENT UP ON ALL SIDES. 
{See page 176.) 



FAMOUS SCOUTS 

Including Trappers, Pioneers, and 
Soldiers of the Frontier 

Their hazardous and exciting adventures 

in the mighty drama of the White 

conquest of the American 

continent 



By 
CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON 

Author of " Famous Cavalry Leaders," 
"Famous Indian Chiefs," etc. 



Illustrated 




BOSTON. L. C. PAGE & 
COMPANY. ^ MDCCCCX 



■1^ 



Copyright, igio. 
By L. C. Page & Company. 

(incorporated ) 
Entered at Stationers' Hall, London 

All rights reserved 



First Impression, November, 1910 



Printed by 
THE COLONIAL PRESS 
C.H.Simonds &> Ca., Boston, U.S. A. 



©CIA275414 



/ 



Dedicated 

aCo tlje g>cljaoHja|>s; anb |?oung ifWen 

of tf)e ?Hntteb States;, €nglanb 

anb Canaba 

whose many tokens of appreciation of my work 

have made it a labor of love 

to write these tales of the famous pioneers 

and men of mettle, 

who lived adventurous lives, 

and left full records of their gallant deeds, 

which should live for all time. 



INTRODUCTION 

These are the stories of men who, impelled by 
love of adventure and fascinated by wild nature, de- 
serted the places where those of their kind clustered 
together in towns, cities, and small settlements, to 
plunge into a country peopled by men of a hostile race. 
These adventurers had music in their souls. They 
possessed temperaments of a poetic nature, and loved 
the great, wide vistas of the plains; the scream of the 
eagle; the bark of the coyote; the splash and gurgle 
of crystal rivers which plunged in a reckless course 
between the shelving sides of narrow canons. Their 
eyes reveled in the skies of the golden West, and in 
the sight of plateaus decked with those flowers of a 
million colors which clothe the mountain valleys in 
the hot months of summer. Their senses were keen; 
their love of the unrestrained life in camp and log 
cabin was resistless; their ready rifles supplied them 
with the wherewithal to sustain their strength and 
spirits; and in their veins ran warm, red blood. 

Urged onward by the romantic, these hardy in- 
dividuals made history. Emerson speaks with truth 
when he says, ^'Romance is never present, but always 
remote. Things which are cruel and abominable 
when they occur, become romantic in memory. Un- 
principled bandits are Red Cross Knights, and Tem- 
plars and Martyrs even, in the thoughts of those of 

vii 



viii INTRODUCTION 

this century. In individual history, disagreeable oc- 
currences are remembered long after with complacency. 
A romantic age, properly speaking, cannot exist. Never- 
theless, romance is the mother of knowledge; and it 
is in searching for wonders that the truth is discovered. 
If the unknown were not magnified, no one would ex- 
plore. Had it not been for the belief that an El Dorado 
lay in America, European navigators would have 
lacked the stimulus for adventurous voyages. The 
history of all sciences is alike: men guess, and, to verify 
their guesses, they go and see, — and are disappointed; 
but bring back truth." 

So with these heroes of the plains. Irresistibly 
drawn on by that strange, magnetic call of the wild, 
they searched for their El Dorados, and brought back 
truth. They returned with tales of a glorious, un- 
peopled country; of herds of game; strange tribes of 
red-skinned people; of clear rivers, and sage-covered 
wastes of alkali. And these tales — stirring the im- 
aginations of their fellows — led to that great, sweeping 
emigration of the white pioneers to the land of the 
setting sun. These men were, perhaps, of uncouth 
manners and untutored brains; but they made history. 

In the far West it is no unconmion sight to meet 
the pioneer with his wife, his herds and his family, 
as they push into the unsettled wastes, always in search 
of ^'something better than they left behind.'' This vision- 
ary reaching for what always lies beyond is what has 
appealed to men of a certain temperament. Some 
wander — always wander — discontented with what 
they find; searching with uncertain longings for their 



INTRODUCTION ix 

Utopia. Others, satisfied with that which has come 
to them, have remained in one place, to build a factory; 
till a farm, raise a family, and be a stationary unit 
in world progression. These men of whom I write 
were often restless, roving blades. They continually 
looked into the beyond; if they did not do so, they 
were not satisfied with the quiet life, but had to be in 
the maelstrom of action. The perpetual boy was in 
them. 

For this reason I wiite of their active lives for 
young men, for is it not young men for action, old men 
for counsel? To the young man the philosopher does 
not appeal: Franklin is superseded by Light Horse 
Harry Lee. The red blood of youth sees heroes in the 
individuals of dash and courage; while, to him, the 
man of the diplomatic circle, the scientific dreamer, 
the scholar and poet, have little place in the affections 
of one in whose veins is the hot impulse to do, and not 
to meditate. 

Hark, then, to the stories of the men who were of 
the forest, the mountain, the plain and the camp; 
men who, in living their wild lives, made records upon 
the pages of history, and were the scouts of that surging 
mass of white adventurers which has taken possession 
of a great and fruitful continent. Under the sledge- 
hammer blows of the toilers of the white race, this 
silent land has produced a wealth which is unsurpassed, 
and which has meant little to the men of the pack, the 
saddle and the rifte; who lived, scouted and toiled, 
in the enjoyment of a full-blooded existence. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

Introduction ....... vii 

. I. General Israel Putnam: Pioneer, Sol- 
dier, AND Heroic Adventurer . . 1 
^ II. Daniel Boone, the First Pioneer of 

Kentucky and Courageous Explorer 38 

III. Simon Kenton: the Pluckiest Woodsman 

UPON THE Ohio Frontier ... 75 

IV. Captain Samuel Brady: the Greatest 

Long Distance Jumper of American 
History ...... 97 

V. The Two Athletic Poes, and Major Sam 

McCuLLOCH, THE DESPERATE RiDER OF 

West Virginia . . . .113 

^ VI. Lewis and Clarke: the First Bold Ex- 
plorers TO Reach the Pacific by the 
Northern Route .... 123 

1^ VII. Colonel Davy Crockett: Bear Hunter, 
Congressman, and Defender of Texan 
Liberty ...... 140 

«- VIII. General Sam Houston, the Savior of 

Texas 163 

t IX. Kit Carson, the Nestor of the Rocky 

Mountains ..... 181 

X. General William S. Harney, the Ever- 
glade Fighter and Marvellous Run- 
ner . . . . . . .211 

XI. Wild Bill Hickok: Trapper, Scout and 

Fearless Gun Fighter . . . 232 

XII. Captain D. L. Payne, the Cimarron Scout. 264 

XIII. White Beaver — Dr. D. F. Powell — 

Chief Medicine Man of the Winne- 
bago Sioux ..... 279 

XIV. The Hon. William F. Cody — Buffalo 

Bill — Last and Most Noted of the 
Great Scouts of the Frontier . . 296 
Conclusion 337 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGB 



** Shouts and fierce cries went up on all sides " {See page 

176) • . Frontispiece 

General Israel Putnam 2 

Daniel Boone 38 

" Kenton rode well and hard " 81 

Captain Meriwether Lewis. ^ — Captain William Clarke 123 

Colonel David Crockett 140 

Kit Carson 181 

" The crash of rifles waked the echoes of the sombre forest " 195 

General William A. Harney 211 

Wild Bill Hickok 232 

Captain D. L. Payne 264 

White Beaver (Dr. D. F. Powell) 279 

Buffalo Bill (William F. Cody) 296 

" When the Sioux saw the charging soldiers, pandemo- 
nium broke loose among them" 328 



FAMOUS SCOUTS 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM: PIONEER, 

SOLDIER AND HEROIC 

ADVENTURER 

WHEN the American troops were throwing up 
intrenchments on Ploughed Hill — half a mile 
from the breastworks of the Bi itish regulars on 
Bunker Hill — during the American War of Independ- 
ence, a stout-bodied major-general of the Colonial 
forces was superintending the work with great diligence. 
Addressing a soldier who was standing not far from 
him, he said: 

^'Here, my man, we are in need of quick action, for 
the enemy will soon open fire upon us. Place these 
sods upon the wall, and bolster up these weak defenses." 
But the soldier did not proceed with any speed. He 
hung back, and continued with great slowness to execute 
the order. 

"Oho," remarked he who had given the command, 
in mock apology, " I see that you are an officer, my fine 
fellow"; and, jumping forward, he placed the sods in 
position himself. 

This action was seen by the rest of the troops and 
had tremendous effect upon them; for men are quick to 

1 



2 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

notice the democratic side of their leaders, and nothin 
pleases them more than to see an officer who will shai 
their dangers and privations with them, and, if necessary 
do the same work which they must undertake. Wash 
ington, Stonewall Jackson, Welhngton, Sir John Moor( 
and Sheridan, owed their popularity with their troop 
to their simplicity of life and whole-souled democrac 
of spirit. Thus bold, bluff and generous Israel Putnai 
— the man who had not been too dignified to do th 
labor of a common soldier — was loved, respected an 
revered by the bedraggled and unkempt Continenta' 
who fought behind him during the war of the secessio 
of the American colonies from the British yoke. 

Putnam was born in Massachusetts when a portio 
of that state was a wilderness; when the shy and ui 
gainly moose roamed through the unbroken forest; whe 
the beaver bred in the clear streams; when bears an 
wolves still had their habitations in the dark recess^ 
of the uncut woodland; and when many hostile red me 
menaced the safety of the few dauntless pioneers wh 
made their homes in the open clearings. 

An old farmhouse now stands upon the road betwee 
Newbur3^port and Boston — just halfway between th 
two places — and although part of it is new, an olde 
portion of rough-hewn logs dates from 1648, a tim 
when bitter warfare was waged between the settler 
and Indians, and when the building of a frontier hom 
was often interrupted by an unforeseen attack fror 
the skulking red foeman in the underbrush. 

The date of Putnam's birth, 1718, shows that hi 
youth was spent at a time when the roads were narrow 




GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM. 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 3 

and dangerous; the settled clearings were few and far 
apart; and it was unsafe for little children to go alone 
to school because of the unfriendly redskins. 

Fortunate is he who is born in the country, for the 
free existence and clear air builds up a muscular body 
that is of tremendous value in after life ; and it was fort- 
unate for Putnam, as he had good need of a vigorous 
frame in the life of action which he was to lead. He 
loved the forest. He learned early how to shoot, trap, 
and fish ; how to find his way — without even a com- 
pass — in the dark and uncut recesses of the wood; and 
although he went to school, he left before he had become 
thorough master of the art of spelling. 

Self-reliance makes the man. The pioneer's son, 
accustomed from early youth to battling with adversity, 
secures a rough and hard-grained philosophy which 
makes him lose the supersensitiveness of the scion of a 
man of wealth. You say to yourself. Would that I 
had been born rich! but, had you been born to great 
wealth, you would lack your fire, your determination, 
and your perseverance. The city boy cannot be ex- 
pected to have the virtues of the country lad. He has 
no quiet wilderness for a home; no early, healthy hours; 
no ice to break in the well of a cold, winter's morning. 
From the very nature of things, the son of a pioneer 
must struggle with adversity; and, by conquering the 
disagreeable, he gains a certain rough virtue that is a 
tremendous asset in life's hurly-burly. 

So with Israel Putnam. It is said that he could 
scarcely write his own name, but he did things. 

He did things at a rather crucial time in the history of 



4 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

the then unformed United States. He did things when 
forests were deep, men were rough, passions were strong; 
and to those that were looking for adventure was given 
an ample opportunity to gratify their desires. He did 
things; and he has left a name which will always abide 
as being synonymous with courage, audacity, and sound 
common sense. 

As a small boy, the little backwoods man possessed 
a coolness and daring which made him a leader among 
the few companions whom he found to play with in the 
sparsely settled neighborhood of his home. One day, 
with his usual daring, he climbed a tree in order to 
secure a bird's nest upon a limb many feet from the 
ground; but — just as he was about to reach it — his 
clothes caught on a branch, he slipped to one side, and 
would have fallen to the ground had not a curved 
branch caught and held him. Fortunately a boy 
named Randall was in the group, with a rifle under his 
arm, and, as he was noted for being a crack shot, Put- 
nam called out, 

"Jim Randall, is there a ball in your rifle?'' 

"Yes," replied the smiling marksman, who was 
chuckling at the ludicrous sight Putnam presented. 

" Do you see the limb which holds me up here?" 

"I do." 

" Then fire at it," continued the anxious youth, who 
was swaying in the air like a large, ripe apple. 

"What? And cut you down?" 

" Of course. For what else could I ask it of you?" 

" But I might strike your body and hurt you," said 
Randall, eyeing the sight of his rifle anxiously. 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 5 

"Shoot/' answered the now red-faced Putnam. 
"Better blow out my brains at once than allow me to 
choke to death, as I shall do in fifteen minutes. Shoot! 
I tell you! Shoot!'' 

"But you will fall a great distance and break your 
leg," said the anxious Randall. 

Putnam was now sputtering with rage and loss of 
breath. 

"Will you fire?'' cried he. 

As he ceased speaking, a sharp crack sounded above 
the noises of the forest; the splinters flew from the branch 
which held the anxious captive; and, with a sudden 
rush, the future general fell headlong to the ground. 
Inmiediately his companions gathered around him and 
asked if he were hurt. "Bah!" answered the sturdy 
youth to their questioning, "I am bruised, as you see, 
but I can still walk. Furthermore, I intend to have 
that bird's nest." Two da3^s later, the undaunted 
climber returned and captured the prize. 

In the old New England days when land was cheap 
and easily had, men married early in life, and had large 
families. Putnam took a wife at the age of twenty, or 
twenty-one, and settled upon the Mohegan River at 
Pomfret, Connecticut, upon a plot of cleared ground 
which his father had owned and had given to him. Here 
he lived peacefully and happily for a number of years, 
interesting himself in the cultivation of his farm and ir> 
the breeding of sheep. His flocks waxed in size and 
brought him considerable return from the sale of wool; 
but there was a wolf in the neighborhood — a large and 
powerful female — who liked mutton as well as did the 



6 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

stout yeomen of New England and their families. By 
the dusk she would steal close to the unsuspecting flocks 
of the farmers, sneak to within easy distance of the 
least active, and then, with a mighty rush, would be 
among them. In a second, the cruel jaws would close 
around the throat of an inoffensive lamb, and it would be 
dragged to the lair of the ferocious mother, — for there 
were numerous young which had to be fed. 

As young Putnam saw his flock gradually diminish- 
ing under the depredations of the hungry animal, he 
naturally grew extremely angry. Traps were set for 
the woodland marauder and her cubs, and many of the 
latter were captured. The old wolf was herself half 
trapped, one day, but she gnawed away her toes and 
regained her liberty. Frequently Putnam and his 
neighbors would pursue her over hill and valley, but she 
always eluded them and their half-bred dogs, to escape 
in the rocky hills where was her cave. The pioneers 
of Connecticut were determined to rid the country of such 
a pest. They persisted in their endeavor to capture 
the scourge of the sheepfolds, and at last were 
successful. 

One day the mixed hounds which composed the 
pack of the first hunt club in America — a hunt club 
founded for self -protection, not for pleasure — seemed 
to be more fortunate in finding the scent of the wolf 
than usual. Like a fox she first ran in a circle over hill 
and vale, then doubled and came back towards her 
cave. All night the sturdy hounds drove the quarry, 
and in the early morn had tracked her to her den at a 
place only seven miles from the home of the rugged 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 7 

Putnam, who was burning with righteous anger to 
avenge the loss of a score or more of his fattest sheep. 
A large number of men and boys assembled around the 
mouth of the cave, with dogs, guns, straw and sulphur, 
prepared to smoke out the enemy of the countryside. 
Sneaking to the very back of the cavern, the infuriated 
animal, with flaming eyes and bristling hair, growled 
ominously, and prepared to spring upon whomsoever 
should approach. 

Several of the more courageous hounds entered the 
cave and neared the dangerous animal. But she rushed 
upon them with fury; bit and clawed savagely and drove 
them, yelping, to the open, with their bodies bleeding 
from the bites and scratches which she had inflicted. 
Smoke and the fumes of sulphur could not move her. 
She clung to her position with all the tenacity of her 
race, and, with glowing eyeballs and savage growls, faced 
the dim light at the mouth of the cave, where she could 
see the shadows of her pursuers. 

"For twenty hours,'' says an old historian, "the 
savage varmint kept the dogs and huntsmen at bay,'' 
and when Israel Putnam arrived upon the scene, a few 
of the pioneers were about to give up in despair. One 
of the farm-hands was standing near the mouth of the 
cavern. 

"Take a torch and gun, go into the cave, and shoot 
the old she-devil," said Putnam to him. 

The fellow peered curiously into the opening. A 
savage snarl came from the darkness within, and the 
gloomy depths did not appeal to him as much as stout 
Israel could have wished. 



8 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

"I would rather not/' said he. "I don't think that 
I could handle myself to advantage in such a small 
space." 

"By Jove," cried Putnam, his eyes flashing, "I'm 
ashamed to have such a coward in my family. I, my- 
self, will go in and dispatch this marauder of the country- 
side." 

"No! No!" shouted several of his friends. "Don't 
expose yourself to certain injury. Stay outside!" 

But Putnam could not be moved in his intention, 
and seizing several pieces of birch-bark he soon had 
lighted one for a torch, held it before him, and penetrated 
the gloomy depths of the cavern. The way was small 
and narrow, — so low, in fact, that he had to crawl upon 
his hands and knees. But he pressed onward with a 
rope tied to one foot — like a diver — and, by worming 
his way, soon came to the very rear of the cave. The 
wolf backed against the wall and snarled at the bold 
intruder. She snapped vindictively with her jaws, and 
moved forward as if she were about to spring upon the 
adventurous Yankee. 

At this moment the anxious partisans of the daring 
Putnam felt a jerk upon the rope, and, recognizing this 
to be a signal for quick action, they began to pull lustily 
upon it. "Now give away, boys," shouted a stout 
farmer who held the end nearest the opening, and like 
sailors upon the windlass of a vessel, hand over hand 
they dragged the courageous Putnam into the open. 
His clothes were much torn when he was jerked into 
view. He was bruised and badly scratched, but his 
first words were, " Boys, give me my gun, for I'm going 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 9 

in again and will finish the depredations of Mrs. Wolf 
forever/' 

Some one had loaded his flintlock and placed it in 
his hand as he ceased speaking; and, without further 
ado, he fell upon his hands and knees. In a moment 
more he had entered the mouth of the cavern, and was 
clambering slowly towards the savage animal, who, 
somewhat terrified at the burning birch, slunk back into 
the end of the cave as far as she was able. Nearer and 
nearer came the undaunted Putnam until the flickering 
gleam of his torch made it possible for him to see his 
quarry. Then, raising his musket to his shoulder, he 
took deliberate aim, and fired at the head of the wolf. 
A dull roar was followed by a suffocating cloud of smoke, 
and, giving a kick to the rope as a signal, the fearless 
yeoman was again dragged into the open. 

When Putnam had fired, the old wolf had given one 
tremendous howl, so he was not certain that his ball had 
taken effect. But when he again clambered into the 
cave and advanced cautiously up the passage, he saw, 
by the flickering flame of the birch, that the animal 
was lying dead. So, seizing her by the ears, he signalled 
to his friends by a kick upon the rope, and was soon 
dragged into the open, with the wolf held fast by the 
head. 

"Hurrah!" shouted his companions. "Hurrah for 
Old Put! Hurrah for the wolf-killer!'^ and, surrounded 
by his admiring helpmeets, the fearless huntsman was 
the recipient of many a hearty hand-shake. 

"Here! Let us carry the old wolf home! Come, 
boys, we'll make a litter of trees for her," said Putnam, 



10 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

after the noise had subsided. "And I hope that all of 
you will journey to my house to dine, for we should 
certainly have a feast now that we have rid the country 
of its greatest pest/' 

"That we will do/' cried the majority, and on a 
quickly fashioned litter of boughs the dead carcass of 
the wolf was soon being borne in triumph to the home 
of the courageous "Old Put." His wife welcomed 
them right royally, and, as they clustered about the 
rough-hewn table, all toasted the courage, nerve, and 
audacity of the Connecticut farmer who had at last 
brought to bay the scourge of their sheepfolds. 

Who would think it? Even the papers of France 
and England copied a description of this exploit. It 
was said that there were ten wolves in the cave; that a 
bear and her two cubs were also inside; that the entrance 
was so narrow that it had to be blasted; that it was of 
tremendous length. The feat was distorted and mag- 
nified in every way until the well-meaning Putnam had 
a reputation far greater than he was entitled to. Yet 
he bore himself graciously beneath the favorable com- 
ment which he heard upon all sides, and, because of his 
agreeable manner, generous spirit, and uniform good- 
humor, was not only popular, but also held in great 
affection by his neighbors. 

It is no wonder that a man of his disposition was 
among the first to enlist in the French and Indian War 
which broke out in the year 1755. "Old Put" was 
then a subject of the British crown. He was commis- 
sioned a captain of volunteers, although he had never 
served a single day in any military command; and he 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 11 

marched to the front with spirited enthusiasm. Many 
of his neighbors joined him; young men all, and men 
who were thrifty, hard-working, and intelligent enough 
to recognize in this Connecticut farmer a born fighter 
and leader of troops. Not a single one of them had ex- 
perienced any training in military affairs, yet they were 
rugged fellows, with strong arms, stout bodies, bold 
hearts, and absolute confidence in their captain. 

In General Braddock's fatal march upon Fort Du- 
quesne, Putnam and his rangers took no part; but later 
on he and his men became attached to the force under 
Sir William Johnson, which moved against Crown Point 
and other strongholds of the French upon the shores of 
Lake Champlain. Putnam's rangers were known as 
scouts. Their duties were active and perilous. In 
advance of the army, they were expected to surprise 
the enemy's pickets; cut off or capture any detached 
parties which were small enough for them to cope with; 
waylay all convoys of provisions which they could 
overpower; and obtain information in regard to the 
movements of the French and their redskin allies. 
These duties suited "Old Put" to perfection, for he 
knew the forest thoroughly, and could give play to pow- 
ers of invention and stratagem which had distinguished 
him as a boy. He and his men were overjoyed at the 
opportunity to engage in this hazardous warfare, and 
made a good record. They were of splendid service 
to the fighting Baronet. 

At Crown Point, at the northern end of Lake George, 
a strong fortification of the French menaced the peace 
of the frontier, and was an effectual barrier to the ad- 



12 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

vance of the English upon Canada. To learn its strength 
was one of the first duties of the British commander, 
and so he dispatched ''Old Put" and Major Rogers 
(a well-known woodsman) to find out the best method 
of reaching their stockade. They were told to " obtain 
accurate knowledge of the position of the enemy; to 
gain any intelligence which they could of his movements; 
to surprise any advance pickets which they could; and, 
if they could capture any stragglers, to bring them in.'' 
The two sturdy woodsmen left Fort Edward — the 
English frontier fortress on the Hudson River with 
a number of buckskin rangers. Their men were hardy 
fellows, well used to the ways of the redskin, and well 
able to fight them with their own method of warfare. 
With silence and care they threaded their way through 
the depths of the forest, and approached the vicinity 
of Crown Point well prepared to meet any sortie of the 
French and Indians. 

It was night when the little party neared the wooden 
walls of the frowning fortress at Crown Point. " Hush V 
said Putnam to his men. "Let not a single one of you 
show a single light, for the redskin allies of the French 
are all about us. We will camp here without any fires, 
and when the first streak of dawTi reddens the east, we 
will approach the fortress in order to make our observa- 
tions. Remember what I tell you. No lights, and 
absolutely no noise!'' 

His counsel was well heeded. Silently and quietly 
the men stopped to rest. WTiile the tree-frogs croaked 
and the whippoorwills called mournfully to each other 
in the dusk, the little band of scouts lay down upon the 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 13 

fallen leaves to slumber. With sentinels upon the look- 
out, they formed themselves in a circle, each with his 
ready rifle at his elbow and his powder horn tied to the 
barrel, in case of a sudden call to arms. Soon all was 
silence in the dark recesses of the wood, and only a 
soft pattering noise could be heard as the moccasins 
of the sentinels crept across the moss and carpet of 
brownish yellow leaves. 

At dawTi every man was up and doing, and, after 
a light repast of uncooked food, they moved off in single 
file towards the fortifications of the French. In the 
dim light of the coming day men could be heard in the 
works: so Putnam and Rogers moved on alone, caution- 
ing their followers to come no closer, and to wait for 
them behind the screening branches of some thick 
bushes. 

"Old Put," creeping upon his hands and knees, 
wormed his way to a position where he could see the 
stockade, and get an excellent idea of the strength of 
the French defenses. Rogers, the ranger, was a short 
distance from him, a bit in the advance, and — wishing 
to count the number of cannon which the Canadians 
had mounted upon the stockade — he had wriggled to 
the top of a small hillock, when a voice rang out, " Sap- 
risti! Eet ees an Eenglish dog! Come, guards, to 
ze capture!" 

In an instant Rogers had leaped to his feet, pointing 
his long hunting rifle at the breast of a swarthy French- 
man, who was but a pace off. "Ta done!" shouted the 
Canadian, seizing the end of the rifle with his left hand. 
"I vill haf you, you spy." As he spoke he aimed a 



14 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

thrust at the body of the ranger, with a long knife; but 
Rogers dodged the blow, grappling with his assailant 
as he did so. They rolled to the ground in deadly 
embrace. 

Now "Old Put'^ leaped upon them from his hiding- 
place, realizing that did he not act quickly the entire 
garrison would be upon them. "Roll him over," he 
called to the struggling ranger; and, as Rogers obeyed, 
the butt of "Old Put's'' rifle crushed the skull of the 
Canadian soldier. With a groan he collapsed in the 
tangle of brush and briars, as the two English scouts — 
perceiving that they must immediately fly — turned 
about and bounded away into the deep forest; while 
behind them the cries of the French garrison could be 
heard, as they swarmed from the fortification to rescue 
their now dying comrade. The two fugitives soon joined 
their party, and, without waiting an instant, hurried 
toward Fort Edward, where the information which they 
brought was of inestimable value to the conmaandant. 
"Mr. Putnam," said he, "you are a soldier of whom the 
army has good reason to be proud. I will employ you 
soon again, and upon like duty." 

But there was to be no duty for some time to come, 
as the colonial troops were disbanded. They had en- 
listed for one campaign only, and realizing that it would 
be foolhardy to attack the strong fortress at Crown 
Point, Sir William Johnson determined not to make 
an attempt to subdue it until the following summer. 
"Old Put" returned to the domestic tranquillity of his 
farm, where his fifteen-year-old son was in charge, and 
where his sheep had increased in peaceful quiet since 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 15 

the death of the notorious wolf. Here he was busily 
engaged in his homely duties, when, one day in spring, 
a lusty yeoman rode up to the doorway, and, dismount- 
ing, soon found the well-known owner. 

^'If you want to fight once more,'^ said he, "the 
army is about to have a second brush with the French 
and Indians; and no one will be more welcome among 
the rangers than yourself. Will you come?'' 

A smile lighted the countenance of the courageous 
young frontiersman, as he responded : 

"Will I come? My son, I've been itching for a good 
brush with the redskins for the past three months. My 
old rifle is getting rusty from lack of use. Wait until 
I kiss my wife and son good-bye, and then I'm off again 
for the dangers of the campaign. Hurrah!" 

When the British and American troops had gathered 
at Fort Edward for an advance upon the French strong- 
holds at Crown Point and Ticonderoga on Lake George, 
"Old Put" was again sent forward to see what he could 
discover in regard to the numbers of the enemy and the 
disposition of their forces. With him, this time, was a 
Lieutenant Durkee, who was as brave and as skilled 
in woodcraft as was the famed Rogers, the ranger. 

The French had a different method of arranging their 
sentinels from that of the English, and this caused the 
two bold scouts to get into much difficulty. While 
the English posted their sentinels near their fires, where 
they could often be seen by the skulkers, the French and 
Indians kindled their fires in the centre of their line, and 
posted their sentinels in the surrounding darkness. 
Supposing the French sentinels to be behind the fires, 



16 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

Durkee and Putnam crept stealthily forward, and were 
soon well within the circle of bright flames. Suddenly 
a wild war-whoop rang out, and they found that they 
were discovered by their Indian enemies. A shot 
echoed in the gloom, which wounded Durkee in the 
thigh; and, perceiving that safety lay only in flight, the 
two bold adventurers turned to make good their escape. 

It was intensely dark. This was fortunate. As the 
two adventurers plunged and stumbled in the direction 
of their own lines, Putnam suddenly fell forward into 
a large clay-pit. A sudden thud warned him that 
another man had fallen beside him. Thinking that it 
was an Indian, he turned to strike him with his knife, 
but as he did so he recognized the voice of Durkee. 
"Are you hurt?" said he. "No," answered "Old Put." 
" Let's get out of this as soon as we can, for we are abso- 
lutely surrounded by red devils, who are thirsting for 
a shot at us. Come on! We wifl run for it." 

So jumping out of the pit, they rushed away again. 
Crash! Crash! sounded the volleys of lead in their 
rear, and a perfect hail of leaden missiles fell around 
them. The luck which always pursues the great was 
upon their side, however, and they were soon crouching 
behind a great log, well beyond the range of the hostile 
bullets. 

Putnam began to laugh as he perceived that they 
were now out of all danger. 

"Let's drink to the eternal confusion of those ras- 
cally French sentinels," said he. "I've a little rum in 
my canteen. Here, Durkee, take a pull of it!" 

His companion seized the proffered flask, but uttered 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 17 

a loud exclamation. Alas for the generous intention of 
"Old Put!'' A bullet had gone clear through the tin, 
and not a single drop of liquor remained. But the two 
scouts laughed at this; and laughed still more next 
day when they found fourteen bullet-holes in the blank- 
ets which they carried with them, wrapped around 
their shoulders. It was a narrow escape, indeed. 

One more incident in this campaign bears full witness 
to the sureness of aim possessed by " Old Put.'' 

A certain sentry-post had been repeatedly fired upon; 
and so accurate had been the aim of him who fired that 
three English sentinels had thus been killed. Men dis- 
liked to be put on guard at this point; but "Old Put" 
was anxious for a chance to go to this position, and 
asked to be given an opportunity of watching for the 
unseen enemy who was so accurate with his rifle fire. 

"Certainly, I will place you there. Captain Putnam, 
if you so wish,'' said the commanding officer to whom 
Putnam applied; "but the danger is great. Be sure 
not to recklessly expose yourself. If you hear a noise 
from beyond the lines, don't fire unless you are certain 
that it is not one of your own men at whom you are 
taking aim." 

"All right," replied the sturdy farmer and soldier; 
"I will surely come back from tha.t post, and you can 
be certain that no sneaking redskin will catch me nap- 
ping." 

Carefully selecting a position near a shadowy oak, 
Putnam was in place by nightfall, with both eyes and 
ears alert for any indication of a skulking foe. Silently 
he tramped back and forth upon his beat; while the 



18 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

whippoorwills called in the sombre blackness of the 
forest, and the tree-toads made their sad and unpleasant 
croakings. Time passed. It was soon midnight; and, 
as Putnam rested in the dense shadow of some hemlock 
trees, he heard the sharp rattle of pebbles, as if a f )x 
were skulking in the underbrush. He peered carefuLy 
into the darkness. A crunching sound came to his ears, 
as if some animal had found food and was munching it. 
Quickly his rifle was held upwards, — in instant readi- 
ness to be placed at his shoulder. 

As he stood immovable he saw the bushes parting 
very stealthily, and something dark was clearly visible 
among them. " I will give this thing, if a man, a chance 
for its life, ' ' said Putnam to himself. " W^o goes there T ' 
he called with careful distinctness. 

There was no answer, and the shadowy form was 
still. 

Raising his rifle to his shoulder, the careful Putnam 
pulled the trigger. The crack which sounded forth 
was followed by a groan. Quickly loading, he fired 
again. Another groan came to his ears, this time plainly 
a human one; and, darting forward, Putnam saw lying 
upon the sod the expiring form of a burly Indian brave, 
his rifle clutched convulsively in his hand. The mur- 
derer of the sentinels was no more. 

The war went merrily on. Both French and English 
determined to gain possession of the continent, but it 
was soon evident that the English and Americans were 
better fighters than the French and Indians. Among 
the Americans none was a better frontiersman than 
Rogers, the ranger, — a man of undaunted nerve, cour- 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 19 

age, and skill in woodcraft; a match for any redskin 
who ever trod the silent forest, and more than a match 
for any white man. He was ordered, this particular 
summer, to embark a force of one hundred men — with 
Captain Putnam along — and to row down Lake George 
to assault a body of about six hundred French and 
Indians, who had just made a successful attack upon a 
detachment of Americans guarding a train of provisions, 
en route for the British camp. The French were in 
boats, and, realizing that the best place to attack them 
was in the narrows, the two American soldiers soon 
had their men in boats and canoes, and had them 
concealed on either side of the winding sheet of water, 
through which the French had to pass. 

Patiently they waited, and before very long the 
batteaux of the enemy came slowly down the lake. 
A wind in the rear helped the boats along; and as they 
came to a position directly opposite the bank upon 
which the frontiersmen were resting, Putnam gave a 
low whistle. Imimediately fire belched from the hun- 
dred rifles, many oarsmen fell prostrate upon their seats, 
and a few lurched into the water. Volley after volley 
resounded, and, amid the rain of balls, the French 
made a vain attempt to reply. A few of the boats were 
totally disabled; but a few, driven by the force of the 
severe wind, drifted down through the narrows, to 
escape to Fort Ticonderoga (a French stronghold), 
where the garrison was immediately informed of the 
presence of the band under Putnam and Rogers. It 
was not long before a body of three hundred fresh troops, 
French and Indian, had left the Fort in order to cut off 



20 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

the successful adventurers before they could return to 
Fort Edward, — the British stronghold from which 
they had started. 

The chronicles of the period say that Rogers and 
Putnam were fully twenty miles from their boats and 
canoes, — but I doubt this. They had, undoubtedly, 
some distance to go through the woods before they 
found them; but this distance was probably about five 
miles. At any rate, as they hastened toward the foot 
of Lake George, they were sighted by the pursuing 
French and Indians; who, confident of soon overcoming 
this small force, set up a mighty yell of joy as they 
advanced to the attack. 

"Smng the canoes across the lake in two lines,'' 
shouted Putnam to his men. "We'll teach these 
Frenchies not to follow us! Don't waste a shot, and 
aim low whatever you do!" 

As he spoke the men obeyed him, and the French 
and Indians came on with a will. Crash! Crash! 
sounded the volleys from Rogers' and Putnam's men. 
A small cannon in one of the English boats struck a 
French boat and scuttled her. Oars were splintered; 
men fell into the water on every side; and, although 
the French replied with spirit, the aim of the Americans 
was so accurate that they were forced to retire. "We 
are beaten!" shouted a French officer. "We must go 
back." And so they withdrew to recover, while the 
men under the two American frontiersmen turned and 
paddled swiftly towards the southern end of Lake 
George. It is said that five hundred Frenchmen were 
disabled, and only one Englishman, — an erroneous 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 21 

statement, no doubt. At any rate, the French had 
enough of fighting, and did not pursue, while the Httle 
band of rangers marched into Ticonderoga with wild 
hallooings and songs of ^dctory. They had certainly 
given a good account of themselves. 

"Old Put,'' you can see, was in all kinds of hazard- 
ous adventures. He was strong, active, nervy, and 
cool in difficulty and danger. With an eye like a hawk's 
he could shoot as straight as could the celebrated Daniel 
Boone, and he rarely missed his man. A hundred times 
he would have been caught or captured had his quick- 
ness and ability not extricated him from the dangerous 
position in which he had been placed. Had he lived 
today, he would have been the champion shot of a 
modern gun club, and would have been an athlete of 
distinction, with honors won in a hundred contests. 
He kept no careful journal, as did Washington and 
Jefferson. All that we know of this intrepid and daunt- 
less spirit has come down to us from a few stories in 
old newspapers, and from a few tales handed down from 
mouth to mouth. Naturally there is much that can 
never be known of his woodland escapades, and this 
is, of course, most unfortunate. 

An incident which soon occurred gives ample proof 
of his extraordinary coolness. Had he for one instant 
lost his head, he could never have extricated himself 
from the position in which he was soon to find himself. 

One day, with a few men, the gallant soldier was 
in a boat on the eastern side of the Hudson River. Sud- 
denly a warning whistle from the opposite shore told 
him that he was in danger; while, soon afterwards, a 



22 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

companion shouted to him that a force of Indians was 
descending upon his position from the upper portion 
of the stream. Below were a spuming waterfall and 
rapids of unknown dangers. What was he to do? 
Even as the warning reached him, the Indians were in 
view, and he was in easy range of their rifles. Should 
he cross the river to his companions, he would un- 
doubtedly be killed by the unerring aim of the enemy. 
There was one course open. He chose it; and turning 
the bow of the boat towards the rapids, was soon headed 
for the eddying current. One of his men fell from a 
volley by the redskins. The Indians gave a loud yell 
as they saw the little boat swirl into the current of boil- 
ing froth and foam. Even Putnam's companions 
looked about them in terror as the boat whirled down 
the seething course, but "Old Put'' did not once lose 
his unfailing courage in adversity. Seizing an oar, he 
stuck it through a rowlock in the stern, and guided the 
little vessel through the foaming vortex. " Ugh ! Ugh ! ' ' 
cried the red men. "The Great Spirit is with him. 
Ugh! Ugh! He has a charmed life. See! He goes 
through the big waters. He comes out at the other 
end. He is one of the Great Spirit's children. We 
will not again shoot at the man with the courage from 
the Mighty One. Ugh! Ugh! He is charmed with 
the magic of our ancestors." 

Thus the valiant ranger escaped, and thus his fame 
became so well established among the red men that 
they ever afterwards feared him, and could scarcely be 
led on to the attack by the French when they knew 
that "Old Put" opposed their line. 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 23 

At the close of the year 1756, it looked black for 
the English cause in the New World; but by July of 
1758, the tide had turned, and the French were put 
upon the defensive. Sir Jeffrey Amherst captured 
Louisburg, a strong French fortress on Cape Breton 
Isle; Fort Duquesne (now Pittsburg, Pa.) was taken; 
and Amherst took the field at Lake George, and drove 
the French and Indians from Ticonderoga and Crown 
Point. France, under a corrupt government at home, 
was becoming nerveless, and gave its American settle- 
ments but little assistance. 

Wliile fierce fighting was going on near Lake George, 
Rogers and Putnam were dispatched to cut off a party 
of the enemy that had plundered a train of baggage 
teams. The French heard of their approach, and es- 
caped to their canoes. They were far up the lake when 
the rangers reached its edge; and, with many cursings 
upon their misfortunes, the men in buckskin started 
homewards toward Fort Edward, with some hope of 
surprising some straggling party of the enemy. Through 
the thick forest they crept in single file. Major Putnam 
leading, and Rogers, the famous ranger, in the rear. 

Now it was conunon talk among the soldiers that 
Rogers was very jealous of ''Old Put.'' Both were 
fearless m.en. Both were great scouts and woodsmen. 
Both excelled with the rifle and in woodcraft. Just as 
boys are jealous of each other, so are men; and in the 
breast of the far-famed ranger slumbered the fire of 
bitter envy. 

As they pressed forward, Rogers amused himself 
with a trial of skill with a British officer, and in firing 



24 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

at a mark. All know that this was arrant foolishness. 
Where the greatest silence should have been kept, be- 
cause the woods were filled with enemies, these two 
overgrown boys began to whoop and laugh over their 
poor shooting. Sounds carry far in the stillness of the 
vast northern woodland, and it was not long before the 
noise of this silly play came to the ears of some rene- 
gade Indian scouts. "Hist!'^ said they. "The English 
are near. Let us tell the white General." 

So, as Putnam's little party again resumed the 
march, an ambuscade of eager French and Indians 
awaited them. Under Molang — an able soldier — 
this body of enemies was effectively arranged, so that 
it was well-nigh impossible for gallant Putnam and his 
men to escape their murderous rifle fire; and soon, 
with a wild, ear-splitting yell, the woodland echoed 
with the volleys of those hidden in ambush. 

An English captain called Dalyell, who was in the 
centre of the line, immediately moved up to help " Old 
Put." But the arrogant Rogers — filled with jealousy, 
no doubt — formed a circular file between Putnam's 
and Dalyell's commands, — apparently in readiness to 
prevent an attack from the rear. He made no move 
to come to the aid of the Connecticut wolf-killer, who 
was soon surrounded by numerous painted braves. 
The English officers and men fought with desperate 
valor, from behind stumps, tree trunks, and logs. Thus 
they were struggling, when a powerful Indian Chief 
sprang forward towards the valorous "Old Put," who 
raised his rifle to fire. Alas! It refused to go off; and, 
as the tomahawk of the red man gleamed above his head, 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 25 

the American major cried out reluctantly, "I surrender. 
I am your prisoner." He was immediately disarmed, 
and bound to a tree, while his captor re-entered the 
fray. 

As "Old Put" remained tied to the tree, the fight 
ebbed and flowed about him. Bullets of both friend 
and foe cut his clothing, and knocked chips from the 
bark of the very oak to which he was attached; and, 
worse than this, an Indian brave amused himself by 
hurling his tomahawk near his head five or six times, — 
just grazing his face by a hair's breadth upon several 
occasions, and yelping with joy at the discomfiture of 
the American officer. But fortunately the fight ebbed 
by his position, for a moment, and the miscreant was 
driven into the underbrush by several well-directed 
shots from some of Rogers' rangers. 

Putnam was not to be left alone for long. As the 
French and their allies drove the Americans once more 
beyond the tree, a young French officer ran up, and, 
levelling his musket at Putnam's breast, pulled the 
trigger. As luck would have it, it failed to go off. " I 
am a prisoner of war. Monsieur," cried "Old Put." 
"You should treat me as such." 

"You deserve death, you American dog," answered 
the Frenchman in a rage, striking him in the ribs with 
his musket. "Here, take this!" and, so saying, he beat 
him violently in the jaw with the butt-end of his musket. 

Just then, with a wild cheer, the Americans charged 
upon their enemies, and drove them back. "Ah! I 
will be free," thought Major Putnam; but no such luck 
was to come to him. As the redskins retired, the same 



26 FMIOUS SCOUTS 

burly Indian who had captured the stout-hearted soldier 
ran up and unbound him. He was seized by four others, 
and, in spite of his struggles, was carried along with the 
retreating allies. His wrists were bound together with 
deer thongs. Four packs were tied to his back; and 
he was commanded to carry them, or suffer death. So 
he struggled forward, until, bleeding and exhausted, he 
cried out in half French, ''Pray kill me, for death is 
better than this." 

A French officer heard his words, and, drawing his 
sword, ordered the savages to unbind the thongs upon 
the captive's wrists. "Here are a pair of moccasins," 
said he. " I perceive that your feet are bleeding. These 
Indian dogs never know how to treat a prisoner. They 
are brutes." 

Gallant Putnam now thought that he would receive 
good treatment, but he was mistaken. No sooner had 
he arrived at camp, that evening, than he was carried 
off to the Indian encampment without a protest from 
a French officer or soldier. His fears that he would 
have to run the gauntlet were soon put at rest; for he 
discovered the Indian women piling brush around a 
tall stake, and realized, with a shudder, that he was to 
be burned alive. He was stripped, carried to the 
stake, and bound to it so that he could not possibly 
escape; while the redskins leaped about in a wild frenzy, 
cut at him with knives and tomahawks, and made 
many a scar which marked him throughout the rest of 
his days. 

At length the torch was applied, and the flames 
began to crackle beneath the feet of the helpless soldier. 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 27 

Wild yelpings sounded in the dark forest, as the red- 
skins leaped about in murderous joy. Hope died in 
his heart. He resigned himself to his fate, — when 
suddenly a shout was heard. "Cease, you brutal red 
men," came the voice of Molang, commander of the 
French force. "Unhand this brave American, or I 
will kill you all." And rushing into the flame, the 
officer quickly cut the thongs which held the half faint- 
ing Putnam to the stake. Staggering into the open, 
the half-burned ranger was assisted to the French camp 
by his deliverer; who there gave him food and clothes, 
and, what was still more useful, protection from his 
inhuman tormentors. It was an episode which had 
tried out all the courage and endurance that he pos- 
sessed, — and he had escaped death by a hair^s breadth. 
No wonder that he looked ten years older when next 
he was seen by his followers who had fought with him 
in the dense woodland near Lake George. 

When one passes up this quiet sheet of water now- 
adays it is hard to realize that the little picture lake 
was once the scene of such fights, tortures, and bloody 
attacks and repulses. Surrounded by magnificent 
forests, which reflect themselves in the calm surface 
of the blue water, it is such a restful, peaceful, and 
poetic vista, that the cruelties of savage warfare seem 
hardly to have a place in such a setting. All is as clean 
as a gentleman^s park. The woodland is as beautiful 
as that in a fairy book. When last I viewed it, no dead 
wood marred the perfect verdure. A number of hotels 
graced the curving banks of the gentle, calm-faced 
lake, and a score of sail-boats and canoes of summer 



28 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

campers dotted the water. Civilization and refine- 
ment enjoyed a quiet which not long before had been 
disturbed by the most savage and cruel of wars. Peace 
reigned where once had been chaos. 

When Putnam reached Fort Ticonderoga he was 
placed under the guard of French soldiers, and, needless 
to remark, was not tortured or harassed by them. He 
was sent to Montreal; and, as the English soon captured 
Fort Frontenac, an exchange of prisoners made it pos- 
sible for him to return once more to his own lines. He 
was welcomed by his soldiers with hilarious shouts of 
joy; for long since they had given him up for dead. 
Things were going well with the English cause. Ticon- 
deroga and Crown Point fell into the hands of the British, 
and, before very long, Quebec also yielded before the 
onslaughts of Wolfe. 

Montreal was next to be attacked, as it was the last 
place of any size still held by the men of sunny France. 
We find " Old Put,'' in 1760, as a lieutenant-colonel in 
the British army, about to assault this place; and to 
him much is accredited for an English victory. On 
an island in the river was a strong French garrison, 
which had to be dislodged before the town could be 
properly approached; but two armed vessels, of twelve 
guns each, protected it against an onrush of the small 
British batteaux. One broadside from a single boat 
could crush the entire fleet which was necessary for the 
transportation of the English. The question was, how 
to destroy these two ships. 

AVhile General Amherst, the English leader, was 
reflecting upon this subject, " Old Put" approached him. 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 29 

"General/' said he, "those ships must be taken, at 
all hazards/' 

"Yes,'' answered the commander. "I would give 
a half-year's pay, egad, if one of them were taken." 

"I'll take one of them, sir," cried the ingenious 
Yankee. 

Amherst smiled incredulously. "Pray, how, my 
brave fellow?" said he. "Pray how, and when?" 

" Give me some wedges, a mallet, and a few men of 
my own choosing, — and I guarantee that, in four 
hours' time, I'll have a French vessel useless for de- 
fense." 

"All right/' cried Amherst, catching some of Put- 
nam's enthusiasm. "Go ahead — and win!" 

At nightfall, brave "Put" was ready. Selecting 
a dozen chosen men, he placed them in a light boat, 
and, with muffled oars, rowed towards the French 
vessel, just as it became quite dark. They stole un- 
perceived under the stern, — for the French were so 
confident of their safety that they kept a poor watch. 
Noiselessly some wooden wedges were driven between 
the rudder and sternpost, so as to make the rudder 
absolutely useless. Then, pulling carefully to the bow, 
the hawser was severed, and the vessel was left to drift 
with a tide which was sending her towards the shore 
upon which rested the English troopers. She swung 
slowly to her doom, while the French sentries slept 
on, unaware of the danger that threatened them. 

In several hours the boat ran ashore; and, with a 
wild cheer, the British and Americans were soon upon 
the deck. Without firing a shot, the crew surrendered; 



30 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

and as the other boat was soon surrounded by a number 
of whaleboats, manned by soldiers, and with heavy 
guns in each prow, she too ran up the white flag. The 
way was now open to an attack upon Montreal, and 
only because of the genius and daring of "Old Put", 
to whom Abercrombie is said to have remarked, "To 
you, Colonel, is due my victory; and should you ever 
wish a commission in the King's army, pray call upon 
me for my assistance. If any man is worthy of high 
command, that fellow is yourself/' 

Montreal soon fell, and Canada became a British 
dependency, which she has since remained; although 
her people will, no doubt, some day either form an 
independent state, or amalgamate with the United 
States. Soon after the capitulation of the French at 
their last standing-ground, Putnam met the vigorous 
Indian brave who had captured him in the woodland 
near Fort Edward. "How! How!'* said the redskin. 
"You are one brave man. When you need a warrior 
in any of your paleface wars, call upon me. Ugh! I 
can fight for such a brave warrior as yourself. Ugh! 
Ugh! I would follow you to the end of the world." 

Although the war was ended, "Old Put" was not 
yet to retire to the paths of peaceful labor on the farm. 
He was in a British expedition to Havana, in the West 
Indies, in 1762; and also was with Bradstreet's forces 
which marched to relieve the brave Major Gladwyn, 
besieged by Pontiac and his red warriors at Detroit 
in 1764. This has been fully described in "Famous 
Indian Chiefs"; and one can but bestow the greatest 
praise upon the brave English who marched and fought 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 31 

in this desperate affair. Colonel Putnam commanded 
the troops from Connecticut; and, as his allies, had 
Joseph Brant, the celebrated Mohawk chieftain who 
fought so bitterly against the Americans in the Revolu- 
tion ; and also the old Indian warrior who had captured 
him at Lake George. As you know, the British won; 
Pontiac was defeated and murdered by one of his own 
race; and, when peace once more came to the frontier, 
the war-begrimed ^'Old Put" returned at last to the 
long-neglected farm in Connecticut. He had won new 
laurels. His courage, complete indifference to danger, 
and fruitfulness of resource when under fire, com- 
manded the respect and admiration of all. 

For ten years he had been actively engaged in war; 
but for many years longer he was to continue to hear 
the roar and rattle of arms. Although preferring the 
peaceful repose of the farm to the shock of battle, when 
the storm of the American Revolution broke over the 
colonies, "Old Put" was among the first to join the 
cause of the people of America against Great Britain. 
He was ploughing in a field with a yoke of oxen, when 
a drummer-boy came riding down the road. "Open 
hostilities with Great Britain have commenced," cried 
he. "Our men have been fired upon at Lexington. 
To arms! To arms!" In a few minutes the bold old 
campaigner had put his oxen in the barn, had mounted 
his horse, and was spurring for Boston. In twenty- 
four hours he rode the one hundred miles that inter- 
vened between his farm and this important city, and 
saw for himself that war was begun. "I'll fight for 
Connecticut and the Continentals," cried he. "I'll 



32 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

never pay these infernal taxes to Great Britain without 
representation in their parhament. No, I am for 
battle/' 

When the noted fighter returned to his farm he found 
the whole country in a furor. All, save a very few, 
were for armed resistance to Great Britain. Most were 
for fight, not compromise. The legislature of Con- 
necticut made him a brigadier-general. He well de- 
served the honor, for his reputation in the French and 
Indian War, and in the Pontiac Rebellion, had been 
brilliant. So well, indeed, was he thought of by the 
British, that he was offered a commission of major- 
general in their own army, with posts of honor, also, 
for his sons. "I'll never serve the King again,'' "Old 
Put" is said to have remarked at these overtures. "He 
has paid me well, 'tis true, but I'll fight for no man who 
treats his people as he has treated us. My cause is that 
of my countrymen. Away with such offers." 

"Old Put" was very much in evidence at the first 
real fight of the Revolution, at Bunker Hill. Wash- 
ington greatly admired him. "You seem to have the 
faculty, sir, of infusing your own industry and spirit 
into the men whom you employ," he is reported to have 
said to the old veteran. " You are a valuable man, sir, 
and I trust that we shall see service together in many 
fields." You all know how the British charged many 
times against the redoubt of the Americans; and, al- 
though suffering terrible slaughter, carried it, at length, 
because the powder of the Continentals gave out. Put- 
nam was often upon the rampart, urging on his men, 
but he was never struck by a bullet. His old com- 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 33 

mander, General Abercrombie, led one of the assaults 
upon the hill, in person. "If you take General Put- 
nam," he cried to his men, "do not hang him, for he 
is a brave and noble fellow.'' Shortly afterwards the 
gallant Britisher was struck by a ball, and went down; 
but his men swept over the rampart, to see the Con- 
tinentals making a vigorous retreat, — among them 
"Old Put," who brought them off in good order, and 
presented a solid front to the advancing British, in 
spite of the lack of ammunition. 

Not long after this "Old Put" had a rather interest- 
ing affair with a British officer, on parole, who took 
offense at some of the general's reflections upon the 
character of the British, and demanded satisfaction 
in a duel. "Certainly, sir, I will grant your request," 
cried the American soldier. "But, as you have chal- 
lenged me, I have the choice of weapons. I will meet 
you tomorrow in a clearing in yonder woodland, where 
— by all that is true — you will rue the day that ever 
you challenged me." So saying, he walked away, 
humming a tune. 

When the proper time for the duel arrived, the 
Englishman found Putnam at the appointed spot; un- 
armed, save for his sword, and sitting upon the side of 
a powder-barrel, calmly smoking a pipe. There was 
a small opening in the top of the barrel, in which was 
inserted a fuse. 

"Pray seat yourself here," said "Old Put," point- 
ing to his side, and, as he did so, he lighted the fuse 
with his pipe. 

" I reckon that our chances are about equal," said he. 



34 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

For a moment the Englishman watched the burn- 
ing fuse. Then, as it crept down to the powder, he 
jumped up, and ran headlong into the forest. 

Putnam burst into a hearty laugh. 

''You are just as brave as I took you to be," said 
he, as he strolled leisurely towards the pale-faced Brit- 
isher, who had now halted. ''That is nothing, my 
bold soldier, but a barrel of onions, with a few grains of 
powder scattered over the top, in order to try your 
nerve. Ah! But I see that you don't relish the smell. 
Good day, sir. I consider that my honor, and yours, 
also, has been well satisfied.'^ And, so saying, he 
walked awaj^ 

Not long afterwards he did a feat of bravery that 
gave him renewed fame as a man of resource and 
nerve. 

When in the vicinity of Horseneck, New York, 
where the American army had retreated, he was one 
day out scouting, and was seen by six British hussars, 
well mounted and well equipped. Putting spurs to 
their steeds they galloped after ''Old Put,'' and soon 
were so close that he saw he must retreat, or be cap- 
tured. So, digging his heels into his horse's flanks, he 
turned to fly. Leaping over several rail fences and 
boulders, he soon found himself upon the brink of a 
steep precipice. Should he go on, or turn back? He 
gave one thought, and then, hitting his steed a fierce 
rap with his hand, deliberately leaped down the steep 
decline. 

Fortune favors the brave. As he reached the bot- 
tom, the hussars arrived at the top of the gorge. Their 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 35 

amazement can well be imagined, as they saw the ro- 
tund form of ''Old Put'' swiftly disappearing down 
the valley beneath them. ''By Heavens!" cried one. 
"There is truly a brave man. I, for one, would not 
fire at such a true soldier. Let us let him depart in 
peace.'' Aad to this the others smilingly agreed. 
"For," said one, "he is a wonder, and deserves a place 
with Pegasus, the renowned winged horse of ancient 
history. Hurrah for yonder American!" 

A life in the woods, exposed to every variation of 
the elements, with improper covering and improper 
food, will break the frame of the strongest. "Old 
Put" had roughed it in many a storm, and had sub- 
jected himself to so much hardship that at length 
the privation which he had undergone began to tell 
upon his rugged constitution. Early in December, 
1779, he began to feel unwell, obtained leave of absence, 
and went to visit his family in Connecticut. He was 
received with the greatest regard and affection; and he 
deserved it. 

Before the close of the month he began to return to 
the army, riding his favorite horse that had saved his 
life by leaping with him down the gorge. When a 
few miles from his own home, a numbness seized upon 
him; and he found, to his distress, that he was unable 
to move either the arm or leg upon one side of his body. 
He reached the house of a friend; was assisted to the 
ground, and soon saw that an attack of paralysis had 
seized him. " By Heavens!" he cried, not ill-humoredly, 
when he discovered what was the matter with him, 
" I'll never again fight for flag or country. But — as 



36 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

all clocks have to stop — I believe I must be sort of 
run down. At any rate, I've done my duty.'' 

'^Old Put" recovered somewhat. He recovered to 
such an extent that he could take moderate exercise 
in walking and riding for full ten years. His mental 
faculties were unimpaired; and for all that time he 
enjoyed his quiet existence, retaining undiminished 
his love of humor, pleasantry, and social enjoyment. 
At length he died quietly at his farm, surrounded by 
his family and loving neighbors, who buried him with 
all the honor it was possible to bestow upon one who 
had so prominently figured in the history of the New 
World. Peace to ''Old Put," the hardy adventurer 
and master of woodland campaigning. He lived his 
rough life well, and his name should be honored by 
all. 

It seems strange to think that when this celebrated 
soldier was a boy, the frontier was near the Hudson 
in New York. He had helped to make history. First 
he had battled for the cause of England against the 
French and their red-skinned allies. He had seen the 
lilies of France driven from the New World. He had 
been present at one of the most memorable Indian 
sieges of history, — that of Detroit. He had witnessed 
the triumph of the white over the red men, as far west 
as the Mississippi. Again he had seen what the English 
had captured wrested from their grasp by their own 
sons. He had been prominent in three wars. He had 
fought for three causes. And with it all, he had been 
an industrious and sensible man; a good husband and 
father; an excellent soldier; a fighter full of nerve and 



GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM 37 

courage. All honor to this hardy pioneer; if such 
talents as his are preserved in the Republic, it will 
never lack for leaders when the time and events shall 
need them. 



DANIEL BOONE: COURAGEOUS EXPLOR- 
ER, AND THE FIRST PIONEER 
OF KENTUCKY 

IN the month of July, 1899, I was sitting at 
Moener's Ferry on the south bank of the Snake 
River in Wyoming. To the southwest rose 
the three glorious peaks of the brownish-yellow Tetous, 
and all around stretched the yellow, arid, sagebrush 
plateau. On a log before me sat a man of fifty odd, 
with a seamed face and squinting blue eyes. He re- 
sided in a low, log hut, which graced the south bank 
of the roaring stream. 

''Do you like it here?'' I asked. 

"You bet, young man.'' 

"Where'd you come from?" 

"Texas. I rounded up th' last herd of buffaler in 
that ar country.'^ 

"You're pretty far away from friends, out here," 
I suggested. "Must be lonely, eh?" 

"Not a bit uv it. Young man, I settled right here 
to git away from cities an' th' bloomin' railroad." 

And, as I thought it over, I saw that he was right. 
He had come to a place where the antelope grazed 
upon the plain; where the elk fed upon the long bunch- 
grass in winter, within a stone's throw of his door; 
where, according to his own words, two moose were 
accustomed to browse during the cold of February 

38 




DANIEL BOONE. 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 39 

and March; and where the coyote and timber wolf still 
held their ground untrapped and unabashed. His 
was the true spirit of the pioneer. He wished to be 
in the wilderness, and away from "the civilization and 
refinement of the province.'' 

Such was the spirit that animated Daniel Boone; 
woodsman, pathfinder, builder of frontier settlements, 
Indian fighter, and fearless explorer. Such was the 
spirit which drove him across the trackless Blue 
Ridge mountains, from North Carolina into Kentucky; 
and made him blaze a way for hardy families of pio- 
neers, who followed in the wake of the first white man 
who penetrated the unknown West. Daniel Boone, 
like the grizzled buffalo hunter of Moener's Ferry, 
wanted to " git away from th' railroad." His restless 
spirit loved the solitude of the vast, unpeopled forest; 
his eye delighted in the beauties of nature; his ear was 
charmed by the rush of crystal streams and the songs 
of woodland birds; his whole being revelled in the in- 
dependent existence of the trapper and adventurous 
pioneer. 

Of old English stock, Daniel Boone was the eldest 
of seven children born to a Pennsylvania farmer. Squire 
Boone, who settled in what is now Berks County, 
Pennsylvania. His father had here founded a small 
settlement, and called it Exeter — after his birth- 
place in England; and at this quiet spot the future 
pioneer grew up on the farm. Philadelphia was sixty 
miles off, with about ten thousand inhabitants; but, 
even then, Exeter was an isolated little settlement, 
and practically in the wilderness. Young Daniel 



40 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

early learned to use the rifle, and, upon more than one 
occasion, had use for the expert knowledge which he 
obtained by firing at squirrels and other small game 
near the homestead. 

One day, when out squirrel shooting with some 
companions of his own age (about eleven years), he 
penetrated a deep woodland, where a panther was 
startled from a rock upon which it was dozing in the 
sun. Young Boone's companions fled, overawed by 
the snarls of the beast. But, as one who has hunted 
well knows, the panther (the mountain lion of the 
Rocky Mountains) is a great coward, and will not at- 
tack a person unless very hungry, in midwinter. Boone 
was unabashed by the size and noises of the tawny 
beast; and, creeping to within range, drew a bead upon 
the animal as it clung to the branch of a low tree. He 
fired. The animal dropped to the earth. With a 
loud shout, the young huntsman called to his com- 
panions; and, when they came leaping to his side, it 
was found that the bullet from his small flintlock 
squirrel rifle had penetrated the heart of the fierce- 
looking beast. With shouts of joy, the boys swung 
the carcass upon a pole, and carried it in triumph to 
Exeter, where young Boone's valor and courage were 
much praised by the older people of this small com- 
munity. He was thus inspired to do loftier deeds. 

For several years he continued his life of hunting 
and trapping, even building a log hut in the dense forest 
for his own use. He had some schooling, but practi- 
cally devoted himself to outdoor pursuits; until in 1850 
or '51, Squire Boone, his father, moved from Exeter to 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 41 

a spot on the Yadkin River, North CaroHna, in what 
is now Wilkes County. History records Httle of Boone's 
life at this period. It is known that, when he reached 
his majority, he married Rebecca Bryan, and had nine 
children, — showing that he had more family cares 
than most. It is not known what part he took in the 
French and Indian War, or in the great warfare with 
the Cherokees, which brought massacre and ruin into 
the Carolinas; but no doubt he developed those quali- 
ties of energy and resolution which only needed the 
opportunity to show themselves. His was a life of 
hunting, trapping, and cultivating a small garden 
patch. 

The Cherokees were defeated and were driven west- 
ward over the undulating hillocks of the Blue Ridge. 
Peace reigned in the Carolinas; but to the eager ears of 
Boone came stories of a vast and unpeopled region west 
of the mountains, — a region filled with elk, bear, wolves, 
antelope, and bison. It was, said some, "a dark and 
bloody ground,'' called Kaintuckee by the red men, 
who had agreed among themselves that it should be 
a neutral territory; lived upon by no particular tribe 
or tribes, and used only as a place for hunting the vast 
herds of game which here abounded. Occasionally 
Boone would meet with a traveller who had wandered 
into this untrodden country, and had returned rich 
with skins of the bison and the beaver. He would 
pour tales of wonder and amazement into the ready 
ears of the expectant frontiersman; until, no longer 
able to curb his restless desire to go into the unknown 
land, Boone left his wife and children, in order to plunge 



42 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

into the wilderness. He says in his autobiography: 
''It was on the first of May, in the year 1769, that I 
resigned my domestic happiness for a time, and left 
my peaceable habitation on the Yadkin River, in North 
Carolina, to wander through the wilderness of America, 
in quest of the country of Kentucky, in company with 
John Finley, John Stuart, Joseph Hoi den, James Monay, 
and William Cool." The spirit of adventure out- 
weighed the spirit of domesticity, which should have 
kept him with his family. 

Although Boone states that in 1769 he first plunged 
into the wilderness, upon a large beech tree that stands 
within sight of the present stage road between Jones- 
boro' and Blountsville, Tennessee, could be seen (up 
to a few years ago) the following inscription, carved 
by the pioneer: 

D. Boone 

CillED A. BAR On 

in ThE Tree 

yEAR 1760 

Hence it is evident that when he dictated his auto- 
biography he had forgotten that it was as early as 
1760 that he and his buckskin-clad companions pene- 
trated the vast wilderness of the dark and bloody ground. 
But he was an old man when he spoke of his early 
life, — and age forgets. 

Guided by Finley, who had made more than one 
trip into the West, Boone and his companions trudged 
onward through dense coverts, over rocky boulders, 
by whose side rushed clear mountain brooks, across 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 43 

giant hills wooded heavily with the spruce, oak, and 
pine. Game was abundant, and they did not lack 
for food. Keeping a close lookout for Indian signs, the 
four explorers kept bravely on, fording creeks and 
building rafts in order to cross the larger streams; 
until, at last, they clambered upon a jutting peak on 
the Cumberland range, and upon the enraptured eyes 
of Boone burst the first view of Kentucky. There, 
far below, shimmering in the sunlight, flowed the head- 
waters of the Kentucky River, through vast groves 
of trees, and by fertile valleys, on which grazed great 
herds of buffalo and of deer. Boone's eyes drank in 
the scene of peace and beaut}^, and he sank to the earth, 
saying, "Boys! This is God's country. It is the 
finest and most magnificent scene that my eyes ever 
fell upon. I feel that here will be the future home of 
a great and prosperous people." Far off rang the call 
of a cardinal bird; a buzzard soared in the distant blue 
ether; and, enraptured by the scene of peace and beauty, 
his companions stared before them, silent and motion- 
less. 

Finally the hunters crept in single file down into 
the valley; and, finding a suitable spot, prepared a 
rude log hut, about ten feet by fifteen, with a roof of 
bark from the linden tree. Here they lived and hunted, 
undisturbed and unattacked by ro\dng bands of Chero- 
kees or Shawnees, until after Christmas. They were 
on neutral ground. Two years previous the Iroquois 
had ceded to Great Britain all their claims to 
the land lying south of the Ohio River; so Boone 
and his companions were upon soil which no Indian 



44 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

tribe laid claim to. The red men had named it Kain- 
tuckee, because this means ''at the head of a river"; 
and this magnificent game land was between the head- 
waters of the Big Sandy and of the Tennessee, which 
rippled aw^ay to the southwest in silent splendor. 

As spring came, Boone and Stuart grew anxious 
to see what lay beyond them; and, leaving their com- 
panions, pushed towards the northwest, in order to 
explore the district lying near the Ohio River. They 
journeyed onward for several days until they reached 
the banks of the Kentucky River, where — in fancied 
seclusion — they built a small bark lean-to and lay 
down to rest. But, just as night was falling, and as 
they lay dozing upon their bed of boughs, suddenly 
shadowy forms bounded from the forest; their guns 
were snatched away; and, rousing themselves, they 
found themselves helpless in the hands of a dozen red- 
skinned warriors. They had been completely sur- 
prised, for in all their wanderings they had seen no 
signs of Indians. 

Boone purposely smiled, laughed, and appeared 
to be overjoyed to be among his red-skinned brothers. 
He had heard that this was the only way to act in order 
to get on with the ferocious red men; for nothing wins 
the good opinion of an Indian so much as bravery, just 
as cowardice is certain to arouse his hatred of a cap- 
tive. Crafty Boone now awakened the respect of his 
captors. They relaxed their vigilance over him, and 
soon allowed him to take part in their sports and hunt- 
ing expeditions; and although he meditated escape, 
he gave no signs of it to the watchful braves. 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 45 

One day Stuart and Boone were taken to a dense 
canebrake, and were made to assist in the building of 
an encampment. Here they lay down to rest in a 
circle of Indians; but at about one in the morning 
Stuart was aroused by a tugging at his arm. 

"Hist! Hist!'^ came the well-known voice of 
Boone. "Awake, and steal sharply off. The Indians 
are all asleep, and you must step lightly, or you will 
awaken them. Then I will not answer for our lives." 

"All right," Stuart replied. "Count upon me for 
silence." 

The two fugitives now stepped gingerly over the 
prostrate forms of their captors; and, turning towards 
their old camping-ground where they had left their 
companions months before, they stumbled off in the 
darkness. They travelled rapidly that night and 
upon the following day. In several days they felt 
that they were safely beyond pursuit, and soon they 
came to the neighborhood of their first camp in the 
new country. With eager eyes they hastened onward, 
already smiling with the thought of the joyous wel- 
come which they would receive; and suddenly they 
burst into the clearing where had stood their former 
home. All was silence. The cabin was gone and a 
few logs smouldered where once had stood their habi- 
tation. Their companions had vanished. 

Nor did they ever view them again. These pioneers, 
in fact, disappeared, and it has never been known 
whether they were killed by skulking red men, or wan- 
dered to some other section of country. Owing to the 
few persons at this time in the western world, it is al- 



46 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

most certain that they would have been heard of had 
this been the case; so it is probable that the Indians 
made away with them. Had they been massacred, 
there is no doubt that this would have finally reached 
the ears of some white settlers, as all such atrocities 
eventually did. At any rate, the fate of these four 
men remains to this day a mystery of Kentucky, — that 
land of many mysteries. 

But Boone and Stuart were not overawed by the 
calamity. Instead, they set to w^ork to build another 
house with the two hatchets which they carried with 
them. In this hut they lived until February, subsist- 
ing upon the game which they killed. Then one day, 
as they were scouring the woods for game, they saw 
two figures approaching. 

"Indians!" whispered Stuart, dropping to one 
knee. "No, white men,'' answered Boone, with his 
finger upon the trigger of his rifle. "It looks exactly 
like my younger brother. Squire.'' 

And so it was. Anxious about the whereabouts 
of the wandering huntsman. Squire had come to look 
for him, and had brought much needed supplies of 
powder and salt. "My wife and children?" asked 
Daniel. " How are they?" 

"Prospering," answered Squire. 

"Then we will stay the winter here, and get enough 
furs to bring much money to my people," said Daniel, 
smiling. And so they remained in Kentucky. 

It was to be a winter of death. They amassed a 
great store of peltries; but while hunting one day 
Daniel and Stuart were surprised by Indians. They 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 47 

shot Stuart and killed him instantly, but Boone ran 
through the thicket with tremendous strides. Jump- 
ing over fallen trees and dashing through the brush, 
he soon eluded the red men, and returned to the camp, 
absolutely exliausted. Brooding over the fate of Stuart 
seemed to upset the mind of Squire's companion, for 
he went away from the camp early the next morning 
and was never afterwards seen. Some months later 
his skeleton was found in a swamp a few miles from 
the camp; so it was evident that the poor fellow had 
wandered there to die, reflecting, with unbalanced 
mind, upon the perils that surrounded him. 

When spring came the ammunition was so low 
that Squire bade Daniel good-bye on May 1st, 1761, 
and set out to traverse the five hundred miles that lay 
between them and the settlements in North Carolina. 
The first pioneer of Kentucky was thus left absolutely 
alone, ^'without salt, bread, sugar; without the society 
of a fellow creature; without the companionship of a 
horse, or even a dog, — often the affectionate com- 
panion of a lone hunter." He was so lonely that he 
made a journey of exploration in the country lying 
between the Kentucky and the Green rivers. After 
a month he returned, only to find that the cabin and 
its contents had been burned by some roving redskins. 
It was thus fortunate that he had wandered away, for 
had he remained he would either have perished or 
been taken prisoner. 

On the 27th of July — a wonderfully beautiful 
month in Kentucky — Squire returned with a large 
supply of ammunition and two horses, and with the pleas- 



48 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

ing intelligence that Daniel's family Vas in good health 
and easy circumstances. These horses were probably 
the first animals ever ridden by a white man in Ken- 
tucky. They did good service for the two trappers, 
who moved their habitation to the Kentucky River, 
in an excellent country for game. No Indians molested 
them; so in the spring they returned to the Boone home- 
stead on the Yadkin River, North Carolina, where 
their furs and peltries brought excellent prices. Daniel 
Boone had been absent for two years. All of his white 
companions, save one, had been killed by the redskins. 
But instead of being depressed by this he was more 
anxious than ever for further adventure. He deter- 
mined to move his entire family into Kentucky. 

The first pioneers of America were brave men, — 
but what of their wives? A woman naturally leans 
towards comfort and civilized refinement; and it was 
not strange that Boone had to argue long and arduously 
with his wife before she would consent to plunge into 
a land of unknown dangers. Before her were intense 
hardships, hostile Indians, w^arfare, and suffering. 
Yet, with true heroism, she consented to join her for- 
tunes with those of her intrepid husband. Five 
other families, with pack-horses and three milch cows, 
decided to link their existence with the explorers. So, 
on September 25th, 1773, the first band of English- 
speaking pioneers turned their faces towards "the 
dark and bloody ground." 

Cumberland Gap is a magnificent thoroughfare 
through the wooded Blue Ridge. As the little band 
of first settlers pushed a cautious way through the 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 49 

narrow defile which led into Kentucky, suddenly a 
wild war-whoop sounded from either side of the glen. 
Shots sounded in the forest gloom; and as the seven 
young men who brought up the rear turned to fight, 
the discordant yelping showed that fully a hundred 
hostile Cherokees or Shawnees were lying in ambush. 
So accurate was their fire that six young frontiersmen 
were soon dying upon the field of battle. A desperate 
fight now commenced. The screams of the women 
and children were drowned by the wild war-whoops 
of the redskins and rattle of the flintlocks. The men 
crouched low and fired only when they saw the head 
and face of a painted warrior. They were all good 
shots, for they had to be. Their accurate fire soon 
began to tell. The Indians grew less bold. After fif- 
teen minutes of furious yelping, they withdrew, carry- 
ing with them the three milch cows, to be butchered 
for a woodland revel. Daniel Boone's oldest son 
James was among the dead; but the pioneer did not 
speak of the intense grief which his loss undoubtedly 
caused him. 

The Indian attack had been so fierce that the pio- 
neers determined to withdraw to the Clinch River, in 
Virginia, where a settlement had been started two 
years earlier. But Boone soon made a trip into Ken- 
tucky, in order to rescue some surveyors who were 
supposed to be sore pressed by an Indian war-party. 
He found them without much difficulty, and brought 
them back to Virginia, covering eight hundred miles 
on foot in sixty-two days. 

Governor Dunmore, the English ruler of Virginia, 



50 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

was now called upon to punish the Shawnees, who 
were rendering life most insecure upon the border. 
In " Famous Indian Chiefs " I have fully described 
the Battle of Point Pleasant between the Indians, 
under Cornstalk and Logan, and the English and Ameri- 
cans. Boone was not in the fight, but commanded 
a fortification upon the border. He did good work, 
and always kept his British commission of captain in 
the royal service; for, when captured by the Indians — 
who were British allies —it frequently saved his life. 
His wits were sharpened by wilderness life, and his 
cunning and plausible speech often saved him from 
death. 

The Transylvania Company now employed Boone 
to guide a party of surveyors, who were sent to open 
a road to the Kentucky River, and to establish a sta- 
tion at the mouth of Otter Creek — a branch of that 
stream. A small company of brave, hardy, and ad- 
venturous men was soon collected; and, under the 
leadership of Boone, began a march into the land of 
which Boone had often spoken with enthusiasm, prais- 
ing its rich plains and game-filled forests. They cut 
a path through the mountains and valleys, which to- 
day is a great highway known as the "Wilderness 
Road." Of this expedition he himself has written: 

"We proceeded with all possible expedition until 
we came within fifteen miles of where Boonesborough 
now stands, when we were fired upon by a party of 
Indians, that killed two and wounded two more of our 
number; yet, although surprised and taken at a dis- 
advantage, we stood our ground. This was on March 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 51 

20th, 1775. Three days after, we were fired upon 
again, and had two men killed and three wounded. 
Afterward we proceeded on to Kentucky River with- 
out opposition; and, on the first day of April, began 
to erect the fort of Boonesborough, at a salt lick about 
sixty yards from the river, on the south side. 

"On the fourth day the Indians killed one of our 
men. We were busily employed in building this fort 
until the fourteenth day of June following, without 
any further opposition from the redskins; and, having 
finished the works, I returned to my family on the 
Chnch. 

"In a short time I proceeded to move my family 
from Clinch to this garrison, where we arrived safe, 
without any other difficulties than such as are com- 
mon to this passage; my wife and daughter being the 
first white women that ever stood on the banks of 
Kentucky River." 

The fort was excellently planned, and was to repel 
many an attack. Let us see how this — the first 
structure of any size in Kentucky — was fashioned. 
The length was about two hundred and sixty feet, a 
bit shorter than the space allotted for the one hundred 
yards dash in athletic meets. The breadth was about 
one hundred and fifty feet. Every twenty feet was 
a projecting cabin with loopholes in the sides. One 
corner was quite near the river, and the other near a 
hillside. Heavy timber gates were in the front and 
rear. The walls were about twelve feet high, and of 
timber, with, sharp ends upwards — so it would be 
difficult for a redskin to climb over it. Hardly a nail 



52 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

was used in constructing this formidable obstacle to 
Indian attack; and, in honor of hardy Daniel Boone, 
it was called Boonesborough. A representative govern- 
ment was here established, and Daniel Boone w^as one 
of the legislators. He orginated two bills: one to im- 
prove the breed of horses, and the other to preserve 
the game. Both were passed unanimously. Hats 
off to the first true sportsman of "Old Kentucky"! 

And now families of whites commenced to flock 
into the promised land; the plough and axe soon began 
to turn the wilderness into a series of farms; and as 
the Indians viewed the smoke from the settlers' cabins, 
they vowed revenge upon those of the fair-skinned 
race who were ruining their vast hunting-ground. 
While Boonesborough was attracting hardy pioneers 
from the East, the stirring news of the Battle of Lex- 
ington, Massachusetts, was first received in the ter- 
ritory of Kentucky by a party of hunters camped in 
a beautiful section of this virgin soil, in what is now 
Fayette County, about thirty miles from Boones- 
borough. 

"Hurrah for the brave Continentals who stemmed 
the British advance !'* cried a stout pioneer. "We 
will call this settlement Lexington, in honor of the 
first battle-field of American independence.'' And 
thus the far-famed metropolis of the fairest section of 
all Kentucky, the celebrated Blue-grass region, received 
its name. It is kno\\Ti as "God's Country," and has 
the most bounteous crops, the finest thoroughbred 
horses, and the loveliest women, in all America. 

The redskins twice attacked the stockade at Boones- 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 53 

borough, but were driven off with no loss to the white 
settlers. Ground was tilled for corn and wheat, and 
crops were raised without much difficulty. But, as 
hostilities between Great Britain and the American 
Colonies were under way, the British secured the services 
of several tribes of Indians, which led to a regular 
Indian war; and Boonesborough was singled out as a 
stockade which must be captured. Three girls who 
were paddling on the river, near the fort, were cap- 
tured one day by the redskins; but a vigorous pursuit, 
led by Daniel Boone in person, secured their recapture. 
This spread great alarm among the settlers. Many 
returned to their old homes in the East. Forty-five 
additional pioneers, however, strengthened the force 
at Boonesborough, and caused much rejoicing among 
the garrison, who lived in hourly dread of an attack 
from the red men. 

And it came. One warm evening in July over 
two hundred Cherokees and renegade Indians were 
seen in the clearing near the fort. The settlers re- 
treated inside and prepared for a stout resistance, 
while Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton, John Floyd, and 
the four McAfee brothers went among them, telling 
the men to keep cool and make every shot count, and 
setting the women and children at work moulding bul- 
lets. But the Indians apparently did not want a big 
fight, and sat down to starve out the garrison. 

"I see what they're after," said Boone. "We'll 
march out and draw their fire; for, of course, they can 
starve us out if they so wish." 

So several men sallied forth, and fired at the red 



54 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

men at close range. The Indians replied, and, when 
things got too hot, the pioneers retreated. Two days 
and nights were spent in thus challenging the men of 
the woods to battle; until, goaded on to anger, the 
redskins opened the attack in earnest. With a wild 
yell they rushed towards the walls of the stockade, 
as if about to scale them; but, after seven of their war- 
riors had dropped before the careful aim of the pioneers, 
and about thirty had been badly wounded, they with- 
drew. 

"The savages,'^ says Boone, "had now learned 
by experience the superiority of the 'Long Knife,' as 
they called the Virginian, as we outgeneralled them 
in every battle. Our affairs began to wear a new aspect, 
and the enemy, not daring to venture an open war, 
practiced secret mischief." 

Unawed by the nearness of the red men, Boone and 
thirty others went upon an expedition to the Lower 
Blue Licks, on Licking River, in the winter of 1777-78, 
in order to get salt for the pioneers. Boone was cap- 
tain, hunter and scout; but his chief duty was to sup- 
ply meat for the men, and to guard against surprise. 
Everything went well for a time, and Boone looked 
forward to a speedy return. 

On February 7th, Boone was chasing a deer, some 
distance from the encampment, when a wild war- 
whoop sounded from the sides of a ravine in which he 
found himself, and he was suddenly surrounded by a 
large war-party of red men. He gave up without a 
murmur; but as he saw that this big war-party would 
make short work of the thirty men making salt, he 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 55 

determined to secure their capitulation, and save them 
from slaughter. So he laughed, even sang, and ap- 
peared to be delighted with his position. The Indians 
were much pleased. ^^Ugh! Ugh!" said they, "he 
make a good Indian. He no coward." 

''If I secure the surrender of my friends nearby," 
said Daniel, the diplomat, "will you see that they are 
honorably treated?" 

"Ugh! Ugh!" said the red men, "if they no fight 
and kill. We will take them to the Great White Father 
(British Commander) at Chillicothe." 

"Let me advance, then, and see them," urged Boone, 
"and they they will give up without firing a rifle." 

The Indians consented: and, after travelling through 
the forest, Boone persuaded his own party to give 
in without a battle. This was admirable strategy. 
It not only saved his fellow-pioneers from massacre, 
but prevented an attack upon Boonesborough. The 
prisoners were marched to Chillicothe, on the Little 
Miami River, and were there paroled by the British; 
but Boone was claimed by Black Fish — head chief 
of the Shawnees — who wanted him as his personal 
prisoner, to take the place of a favorite son who had 
fallen in battle with the white settlers. "It will be 
months before I again see my wife and children," said 
he to himself; "but I shall put on a good countenance, 
make friends of my captors, and, when the time is 
ripe, I will escape to Boonesborough/' This he did; 
and soon he was most popular with the Shawnees, 
who much admired his skill with the rifle. 

Boone was soon allowed to go into the woods alone; 



56 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

but his powder and bullets were measured out to him, 
and he had to bring back as much game as his ammuni- 
tion warranted. Again he used strategy. By using 
small charges of powder, and by cutting balls in half, 
he managed to save a few charges of powder and ball, 
for use in case he should find an opportunity to make 
a break for it to the white settlements. 

In the June following his capture, Boone returned 
from hunting and found old Black Fish with his face 
painted vermillion. Nearly five hundred Shawnees 
were at Chillicothe, in war paint and with many 
weapons. 

" How is this?" asked he, with some distress. " What 
are my red brothers intending to do?" 

"Ugh! We will soon burn the log houses of our 
white enemies to the ground," said a brave. "Ugh! 
We will chop them like a tree. Ugh! Ugh!" 

Boone walked away. "I must escape to-night," 
said he, " and warn the people of Boonesborough. Else 
all will perish. It is now, or never." 

That night he stuffed some long strips of jerked 
venison into his hunting shirt. Early the next morn- 
ing he left the Indian village, with his rifle upon his 
shoulder, as if he were going into the woods for his 
customary hunt. He wandered about carelessly for 
two hours, as if looking for game, and then suddenly 
turned towards Boonesborough. The distance was 
fully one hundred and sixty miles, but he struck out 
at a long walk, and had soon traversed a great strip 
of country. 

For five days the great-hearted pioneer pushed 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 57 

through the wilderness. One regular meal sustained 
him, and that from a turkey which he shot after crossing 
the Ohio River in an old canoe that had floated into 
the brush and lodged. There was a hole in one end of 
it, but this he stopped with leaves, twigs and mud, 
and thus paddled safely to the Kentucky shore. Luck 
was with him; for he was a poor swimmer, and, know- 
ing that he would be followed, feared capture in the 
water. Finally the gaunt and half-exhausted woods- 
man staggered into Boonesborough, where he was 
received with wild rejoicings, for his friends never 
again expected to see him alive. His wife, thinking 
that the Shawnees had murdered him, had gone with 
some of her children to her father's home in North 
Carolina, on pack-horses. Boone's grief at not seeing 
her was pathetic. 

"Now, my men," said he, after he had looked 
around him, ''you must quickly repair the walls of this 
fort, for I see that in the time that I have been away 
from here they have fallen into great neglect. A large 
force of redskins will soon be upon us. We must fight, 
and we must fight like Trojans." 

Acting upon his sensible advice, the fort was soon 
put into a good condition for defense. But no red 
men appeared, although Boone and his companions 
expected an attack at any moment. After a month 
of quiet, the pioneer leader determined to make a foray 
with a view to feeling the strength and position of the 
enemy; so, with thirty well-armed men, he marched 
to the banks of the Scioto River, where he fell upon 
a camp of fifty Shawnees. The Americans immedi- 



5S FAMOUS SCOUTS 

ately attacked. The redskins fled, leaving two dead, 
and one captive, — from whom Boone learned that 
this body was a detachment from a large party under 
Black Fish and eight Canadian officers, en route to at- 
tack Boonesborough. 

'*We must go back at once,^' shouted Boone to 
his men. "We must strengthen our defenses, and 
make ready for this terrific attack that is to come. 
Courage will beat them, I feel sure, in spite of our lack 
of numbers.'' 

The Indian party of attackers was under Captain 
De Quindre, acting under orders from General Hamilton, 
British Governor of the Northwest; and on the eighth 
of July it appeared before Boonesborough, carrying 
aloft both the French and the English standards. A 
small body, under the British flag, advanced to the 
gates and halted, while an officer (De Quindre himself) 
called out: 

" I demand the immediate surrender of the garrison; 
and if you do not surrender I will capture the fort, 
and massacre all of the inhabitants of this place." 

"Wait until I consult my companions," cried Boone, 
from the top of the stockade, ^'and then I'll tell you 
what will be done." 

"We'll never surrender!" cried his men. ''We'll 
fight as long as an ounce of lead is left in our possession." 
Consequently, horses and cattle were collected from 
the surrounding fields, and all was made ready for a 
stout resistance; and, on the evening following the call 
for surrender, Boone cried out to De Quindre, who 
approached near enough to the stockade to hear him: 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 59 

"We laugh at your demand. Thank you for giving 
us notice and time to prepare for our defense. Your 
efforts to take our fort will not prevail, for our gates 
will forever deny you admittance. Now come on and 
you'll get a dose of good American lead.'' 

Captain De Quindre was plainly disappointed, 
but asked for a conference with nine of the Americans. 
Although from where they were they could talk very 
well with the enemy, the wary pioneers allowed them- 
selves to trust a foe whose perfidy they well knew. 
Boone, with eight others, left the fort to treat with the 
whites and red men; and so earnestly did De Quindre 
declare that his orders were to take the Kentuckians 
and not to kill them, that the backwoodsmen nearly 
believed him. At any rate, a treaty was signed, the 
contents of which have never come down to us. 

" It is a singular custom among the Indians of whom 
I am the leader," said De Quindre, when the articles 
had been signed, "for each white man with whom they 
have made a treaty, to give each hand to be clasped 
by an Indian, in token of good faith." 

"Cussed if it ainH a curious custom," Boone whis- 
pered to his companions. "Be on your guard, boys, 
and if a redskin makes a move towards his hatchet or 
gun, skip to th' fort, inamediate." 

The white men held out their knotted hands. The 
red men selected for the occasion, advanced, each 
uttering the word "Brother" in his softest tones. But 
each could not conceal the snake-like glitter in his eye; 
and as they took the hands of the pioneers, each grap- 
pled w4th his would-be friend. A wild yell went up 



60 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

from the stockade, where the companions of Boone 
and his men saw their peril. Quickly the Americans 
wrenched themselves free; Boone knocked over two 
red men with his fists; and, turning around, ran like 
a deer to the doors of the stockade, his eight compan- 
ions behind him. A shower of bullets, tomahawks 
and arrows flew by them as they ran, but unscathed 
they entered the sheltering walls of Boonesborough. 
Ping! Ping! sounded the rifles of the Kentuckians; 
and, falling back before their well-aimed volleys, the 
followers of De Quindre retired to the forest, where 
they returned the fire of the garrison with no effect. 

"I'll blow up the cursed Americans!" cried De 
Quindre, with an oath. "Men, we'll run a mine into 
yonder fortress and blow it to a thousand pieces. '^ 

Boonesborough fortress was but sixty yards from 
the Kentucky River; and, beginning at the bank, a 
tunnel was immediately directed towards the stock- 
ade. But the mud in the river soon attracted the 
wary eye of one of the garrison. "We'll countermine 
them," cried Boone, "and when we meet there'll be a 
battle fit for kings." So saying, a tunnel was started 
outwards from the fort to meet that of the Indians. 

For nine days heavy firing was kept up by the 
besiegers, while both parties indulged in a rapid inter- 
change of rude banterings. "If you red rascals think 
you've got us, you're much mistook,'^ an old buck- 
skinned hunter would yell to the Indians in the wood- 
land. "We'll blow you all to the devil soon," a voice 
would come back. "Oh, not yet," would be the reply; 
"wait until our tunnel meets yours, and then there 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 61 

will be a big time. Oh — you just — wait!'^ Then 
the roofs of the cabins caught on fire from blazing 
arrows, but rain came down and spoiled the burn-up 
which the Indians were expecting. The rain also 
caved in the top of the mine, within a few yards of the 
gate, and things looked black for the vainglorious 
De Quindre. In utter discouragement he raised the 
siege on the sixteenth of September, and, with a last 
parting volley, his red followers retired towards the 
Little Miami. The first stiff brush in old Kentucky 
had been a complete and overwhelming victory for 
the followers of Boone, the sturdy backwoodsman 
and hardy pioneer. He had saved Kentucky. 

Boone, himself, made one first-rate shot, for he 
killed a runaway negro at one hundred and seventy- 
five yards, just as he was firing into the fort from a 
tree. The bullet hit him just in the centre of his fore- 
head. One man only of the garrison was killed, 
and four wounded; while the enemy lost thirty-seven 
by death, and many were wounded. After the battle, 
one hundred and twenty-five pounds^ weight of bullets 
was picked out from the logs of the fort, where it had 
been fired by the redskins; but it was a useless ex- 
penditure of ammunition. Boonesborough was never 
again attacked by a large body of Indians. 

One reason for this was that many new stations 
were established between this frontier fortress and 
the Ohio River, the most important of which were 
Bryan's Station and Harrodsburg. The Indians, fear- 
ing an attack from the rear, were thus afraid to ad- 
vance upon the scarred and battered log stockade 



62 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

upon the rippling Kentucky. Boone, having saved it, 
was anxious to see his wife again; so he returned to 
the Yadkin River in North Carohna, and with her 
started for Boonesborough in the following year. 
Among other valuables that he brought with him 
was a sum of $20,000, entrusted to him by persons in 
North Carolina to take to their friends in Kentucky. 
But he was set upon by a large party of Indians and 
white renegades, who had in some way heard of the 
large treasure which he carried upon his person. He 
was overpowered, the money was taken away from 
him, and poor Boone trudged into Boonesborough 
without the cash which he was supposed to be bringing. 

Yet there were compensations for him in spite of 
this ill fortune. He was court-martialed for surrender- 
ing his men at the Blue Licks, and for parleying before 
the fort with De Quindre; but was acquitted with 
honor, and was promoted from major to lieutenant- 
colonel. Hence he is invariably called Colonel Boone, — 
one of the first and most glorious of Kentucky's many 
colonels, both self-named and officially appointed. 

Boone's life, always eventful, continued so until 
his death. Abandoning his claim to all land near 
Boonesborough, he moved across the Kentucky River 
and settled in the wilderness again at a place called 
Boone's Station, another tiny fort upon the frontier. 
Here he resumed his trade of hunting, trapping, guiding, 
and cultivating a small garden patch. The man seemed 
to court danger, and always moved onward towards 
the wilderness when his work of settlement had been 
done. He was part gypsy, part general, part legisla- 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 63 

tor, part farmer; and he was only satisfied by the great 
quiet of the unsulhed woodland. 

So Boone was living quietly, when, on August 16th, 
1782, a mounted messenger came riding up to his door 
with the news that Bryan's Station had been attacked 
by an overwhelming force of redskins and whites. 
The next day found the splendid old fellow on the 
march to the scene of conflict, with his rifle upon his 
shoulder. With him were all the able-bodied men of 
the neighborhood. 

It seems that there had been but fifty men in the 
fort at Bryan's Station, when a body of twenty Indians 
had advanced close to the fort, delivered a volley, and 
then had retreated. This was apparently a ruse to 
draw out the garrison, but there were old Indian fighters 
in the stockade, and they knew the tactics of the cun- 
ning red men. Consequently none ventured beyond 
the walls of the fort, but runners were dispatched to 
the other settlements for assistance. These men crept 
silently through the underbrush, eluded the watchful 
red men, and escaped to bring the news of the attack 
to Boonesborough. 

The redskins were under the command of Simon 
Girty, a white renegade who had joined them. Strange 
as it may seem, this often happened on the frontier; 
and many whites of weak morals and character joined 
the Indians, a.nd took part in warfare against their 
own race. This particular leader placed his red war- 
riors about the garrison, in order to cut off any possibil- 
ity of escape, and then settled down to a regular siege. 
Whenever a head showed over the top of the rampart, 



64 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

the sharp zip of a bullet showed that the skulking 
Indians were forever upon the watch. 

Daniel Boone soon found that about fifty other 
frontiersmen were hurrying towards the beleagured 
stockade. Some on horseback, and others on foot, 
pressed onward towards Bryan's Station and, at about 
two o'clock in the afternoon, arrived near the scene 
of conflict. But the redskins lay in ambush and, as 
they made a run towards the stockade, poured a heavy 
fire upon the trappers and pioneers with Daniel Boone. 
The horsemen plunged through the circle of fire with- 
out losing a man, the men on foot dashing through a 
cornfield in order to drive off the Indians, only to be 
met with a gruelling fire, which killed six of their num- 
ber. Staggered by this, but returning the fire with 
spirit, they rushed tow^ards the door of the stockade, 
and were admitted amidst cheers from the garrison, 
and wild yelpings from the red men, who had hoped 
to kill them all. 

Simon Girty now crawled to a stump, and demanded 
parley. "If you surrender, you will all be treated 
as prisoners of war," said he. "You will not suffer 
harm, and will be sent to your homes after you have 
been paroled." 

A young fellow named Reynolds hurled back a 
defiant reply. " I've got a dog here," he cried, "which 
is the meanest, sneakiest, trickiest cur in all Kentucky. 
I call him Simon Girty, because he looks hke you." 

"I've got artillery and reinforcements," cried 
Girty, angered by the young man's banter. "I'll blow 
you all to atoms within two hours' time." 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 65 

"Blow away/' came the tart reply. "If any of 
your redskins get into the fort, we'll discard our guns 
and use whips against them. We're a match for all 
the artillery this side of the Blue Ridge." 

"Kill the renegade!" "Shoot the white scoundrel!" 
"A bullet for the dirty dog!" came cries from the friends 
and companions of Daniel Boone; and, seeing that he 
could accomplish nothing, Girty crept back to his own 
men, disappointed and enraged. Next morning he 
and his red allies had departed. Boone and his fol- 
lowers had saved the men and women of Bryan's Station. 

But this was not all of the fighting; for the blood 
of the Kentuckians was now up, and they were de- 
termined to follow Girty's band, and bring his white 
and red followers to bay. Trappers, farmers and 
pioneers continued to come into Bryan's Station, so 
by the day following the withdrawal of the attacking 
force, fully one hundred and eighty well-armed men 
were on hand. Daniel Boone's son Israel was among 
the number, and also his brother Samuel. It was 
decided to at once follow the trail of the retreating 
savages, which was very plain; and so much that Boone 
decided it had been purposely made so, in order to 
draw the frontiersmen on to an ambuscade by a su- 
perior force. 

"I would not advance at this time," said he, when 
his advice was asked. " The Indians have left a prom- 
inent trail. Their cast off garments and utensils 
are strewn along the path. They have even made 
marks upon the trees in their line of retreat. These 
are with a purpose. They mean to lead us into an 



66 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

ambuscade. Colonel Logan is hastening here from 
Lexington with a large body of men. Let us wait 
for him before advancing; divide our force; catch the 
enemy between our two bodies; and win a big victory.'^ 

"No! No!'' shouted the frontiersmen. "Let us 
go forward and clean out the whole outfit. On! On!" 

So the old pioneer's counsel was disregarded, and 
they pressed forward through the forest. At Blue 
Licks (where salt was usually procured by the settlers) 
the trail grew very fresh. The men had their blood 
up and, with a yell of pleasure, pressed on to the Lick- 
ing River. A few redskins were skulking in the brush 
on the opposite shore. They withdrew slowly, which 
led the more prudent frontiersmen to believe that a 
large party must be in front; consequently, a halt was 
ordered, and a consultation was held. When Boone 
was asked for his word, he said, "Boys! I know 
this country well. I've hunted and trapped here often. 
I was once captured here by the redskins. It is ap- 
parent that the Indians are near here in force, for those 
that we have seen have been in no hurry to get away. 
I guarantee that they've made an ambuscade just a 
mile in advance, where two ravines, one on either side 
of a ridge, run in such a way that a concealed foe can 
attack on both the flank and the rear at once. 

" I advise one of two things : either wait for Colonel 
Logan; or, if we do attack, split the force, sending a 
part up the river to cross, and fall on the enemy's rear, 
while the other presses him in front, — and by no means 
cross the river until the ground has first been thoroughly 
reconnoitercd." 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 67 

One of the Kentuckians, called McGarry, listened 
with a great deal of impatience at this sage counsel. 
He was a hot-tempered fellow, and impetuous. Spring- 
ing upon his horse he dashed down the bank into the 
shallow river, which could be easily forded here. And, 
as he did so, he cried out, "all who are not cowards 
will follow me." 

"Hurrah! On! We want a fight!'' yelled the im- 
patient frontier soldiers; and, rapidly crossing the 
stream, they rode in a swift gallop towards the place 
where the last redskins had been seen. Boone followed 
in the rear with others who were on foot. 

As the knowing pioneer had said, no sooner had 
the headstrong riflemen reached the junction of the two 
ravines than a galling fire was poured into the flanks 
by swarms of redskins concealed in the scrub growth 
of timber and underbrush. Scores of horsemen went 
down, and the front lines were thrown into a panic. 
The entire party was flanked; and, as the Kentuckians 
could see no foe, they were shot like rabbits in a western 
"drive.'' 

But the Indians came out of the ravine where they 
had lain hid, and rushed to close quarters. Boone's 
son was shot, and the father fought like a tiger over his 
prostrate body, in order to keep the red men from 
scalping his beloved child. As he, single-handed, 
kept several redskins at bay, a cry went up. "We are 
surrounded. Retreat to the river, or we will be cap- 
tured!" There was a stampede for the water, worse 
than that of the soldiers under St. Clair in the fight 
with Little Turtle. Boone found himself deserted, 



68 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

and made for a lower ford, known only to himself. 

Meanwhile, the panic was general; and, as many 
of the pioneers could not swim, the redskins cut them 
down easily in the water. Some of the Canadians 
were with the Indians, and Simon Girty took sweet 
revenge for his disappointment at Bryan's Station. 
Most of the Kentucky officers were killed. Several 
who were well mounted got safely away, as did some 
of the pioneers who were fast runners. Wild whoops 
of delight went up on all sides as the red men viewed 
the total rout of the aggressive Kentucky riflemen. 
"Ugh! Ugh!" cried they. "We make big fight. We 
teach the white men how to run on, and not back." 

Daniel Boone easily passed through the forest to 
Bryan's Station with the news of the disaster. For 
twenty miles the redskins pursued what was left of the 
little army; but, after the river was passed, the Ken- 
tuckians turned towards them and put up such a 
good retreating fire that the red men kept at a respect- 
ful distance. 

As Colonel Logan heard the bad news, he said to 
Boone, 

" Guide me to the spot. We'll make a forced march, 
and yet redeem the day." 

Had the hot-heads but listened to the advice of 
the old pioneer, Boone, there would have been no tale of 
defeat to bring to the anxious settlers at Bryan's Sta- 
tion. When this new body of rangers reached the 
scene of conflict, the red men and Canadians had with- 
drawn to Old Chillicothe on the Ohio River, having 
buried their own dead, but leaving the Americans to 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 69 

lie as they had fallen. These the men under Boone 
and Logan interred upon the field; and, returning to 
Bryan's Station, disbanded the troops, as the Indians 
had apparently withdrawn. A large pile of stone 
was all that marked where sixty-seven rash Kentuckians 
had rushed to their doom. 

This was the bloodiest battle ever fought between 
red men and white for the soil of the beautiful Kentucky. 
How differently it would have ended had the pioneers 
but relied upon the counsel of the well-seasoned pioneer, 
the founder of Boonesborough ! But men are rash; 
courage among American frontiersmen has never been 
lacking, and such disasters as this but taught those 
good lessons which have been necessary for the white 
pioneers who were to win the great and fertile West. 
The 19th of August, 1782, was long celebrated in Ken- 
tucky as the one day of greatest sorrow during the 
early struggles of this border state. The redskins 
never entered Kentucky again for another foray, for 
shortly afterwards a treaty of peace between Great 
Britain and the United States put an end to all war- 
fare between the Canadians and American frontiers- 
men. Without the backing of the English troops 
the red men dared not again attack the settlements. 

Colonel Boone erected a comfortable log hut on one 
of the tracts of land which he had settled upon, and 
nearby erected a small "tobacco house" for curing 
tobacco in, and storing the leaves when dried. The 
stalks of the tobacco plant were split, and strung upon 
sticks about four feet in length, the ends of them being 
upon poles placed in rows across the building. 



70 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

One day the colonel was busy moving a dry row of 
tobacco leaves to the top of the little hut, and was up 
in the air, supporting himself upon a row of poles, 
when he looked below and saw four Indians enter the 
low doorway. All had rifles in their hands, which 
they proceeded to level at his breast. The old pioneer 
was alarmed, though, being a perfect master of his 
nerve, he did not show it, but smiled good-naturedly 
upon the intruders. 

"Now, Boone, we got you," said a large red man. 
" You no get away again. We carry you to Chillicothe 
this time, sure. You no cheat us any more. Ugh! 
Ugh! Get down and come along with us.'' 

The colonel recognized the speaker as a red man 
who had captured him in 1778. Smiling benignly, 
he answered: 

"Ah, my old friend! Glad to see you. Wait a 
moment, please, until I have finished with this tobacco, 
will you? You can stand there and watch me until 
I am through. Then I will come down and you can 
do what you like with me.'' 

"Ugh! Ugh!" grunted the redskins; and, lower- 
ing their guns, they watched him very carefully 

As the wily old pioneer gathered together the 
tobacco leaves, he kept up a string of questioning. 
The red men were very busy answering his remarks; 
and meanwhile he collected a large armful of extremely 
dry stalks and leaves. 

"Look up here," cried the frontiersman. "I've 
got a notion that one of you used to camp with me 
when I lived with your chief." 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 71 

As he spoke the red men turned their painted faces 
upward. In a moment Boone had jumped upon them, 
breaking the tobacco stalks as he did so, and thrown 
the pulverized tobacco leaf into their eyes. The red 
men sputtered, and gasped for breath, while crafty 
Boone raced out of the door, and to his own log cabin, 
as if a hundred wolves were after him. As he reached 
the door the redskins started in pursuit, but he banged 
it in their faces, and the end of his trusty flintlock was 
soon thrust out of a loophole. 

"Be gone, you red devils," shouted the hardy pio- 
neer. 

Crack! A bullet whizzed by the head of the Indian 
who had first spoken; and, without waiting longer to 
parley with the most skilful shot in the wilderness, 
the redskins rushed into the forest as if Old Nick him- 
self were behind them. Boone, meanwhile, was roar- 
ing with laughter; and, such was his fame among the 
red men from this exploit, that never again was his 
home invaded. 

But the country around him soon became closely 
settled; and, stirred with the true spirit of the real 
pioneer, who is happy only where the game is and peo- 
ple are not, the now middle-aged frontiersman moved, 
with his family and few possessions, across the Missis- 
sippi. Rogues and land speculators, who knew the 
law, dispossessed him of what ground he had received 
from the authorities. Sadly, but not bitterly, the 
stout-hearted man of the woods began life anew in a 
territory which then belonged to the Crown of Spain. 
Recognizing his merit, this government appointed 



72 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

him a Justice of the Peace; but plenty of leisure re- 
mained to him for hunting, and in two winters he ob- 
tained enough furs to pay off numerous debts which 
he had contracted in Kentucky. Honesty is the chief 
characteristic of a true pioneer, and Daniel Boone was 
as honest as could be. 

When the noble old fellow returned to Missouri, 
after paying his creditors in Kentucky, he said to the 
members of his family : 

''Now I am ready and willing to die; I am relieved 
of a burden that has long oppressed me; I have paid 
all my debts, and no one will say, when I am gone, 
' Boone was a dishonest man ' ; I am perfectly willing 
to die." 

About eight thousand five hundred acres of land 
had been given Boone by the Spanish Government, in 
recognition of his official services; but, as he did not 
take up his residence upon them, and did not receive 
confirmation of the grant from the royal governor of 
New Orleans, his claim was disputed by the officials 
at St. Louis, when this property came into the posses- 
sion of the United States Government by purchase 
from Spain. Boone "reckoned that it would be all 
right"; but it wasn't all right, and the claim was re- 
jected by the commissioners appointed to decide such 
matters. 

Not pleased with this, the old colonel sent a peti- 
tion to Congress, in 1812, praying that his original 
claim of land be allotted to him. The Kentucky legis- 
lature directed the two senators from the state to exert 
themselves in his behalf. His appeal was neglected 



DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER 73 

for some time, but at last it was taken up by Congress, 
who granted him just the amount to which each settler 
was entitled should he build a homestead. Boone 
does not seem to have been depressed by this, and 
spent his declining years in the belief that he had re- 
ceived just treatment at the hands of his own govern- 
ment. 

The old scout and woodsman was now too infirm 
for hunting, and occupied his time in making powder- 
horns for his grandchildren, repairing rifles, and in 
tanning deerskins and those of other animals. He had 
lived to be over eighty. He had been the founder of 
the first town of white people in Kentucky. He had 
seen the red men driven from the "dark and bloody 
ground." He had helped to do it, and had adventures 
both startling and exciting. As he sat quietly before 
his little home, a comfortable two-storied stone man- 
sion, his eyes would light with pleasure as he called to 
remembrance the many startling and exciting scenes 
through which he had passed. So he lived peacefully, 
until, on the 26th of September, 1820, Death — the 
great and silent reaper — claimed him for his own. 

The remains of Kentucky's first and most noted 
pioneer now lie at Frankfort, Kentucky. A square 
tablet of stone rests above the body of the frontiers- 
man; and upon the four sides are bronze tablets depict- 
ing his more noted conflicts with the red men. In his 
old age (and in no boastful spirit) he had said, "The 
history of the western country has been my history." 
To him and to his bold pioneering the United States 
owes one of its great highways — the Wilderness 



74 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

Road — over which thousands of homeseekers passed 
in the first peopUng of the West, before the railroad 
was known or constructed. During the American 
Revolution he was first and foremost in defending the 
small and weak settlements which had been planted 
beyond the Blue Ridge. More than any other man, 
he made English colonists acquainted with the vast, 
fertile, and unoccupied region between the Alleghany 
Mountains and the muddy waters of the Mississippi. 
And when the people had followed him, he crossed the 
turbulent stream to the further West, the land of the 
setting sun ; and died, as he had Hved, — in the peace 
of the wilderness, in the forefront of civilization. 

The cardinal red bird — that sweet-throated minstrel 
of Kentucky — often carols his mellow song above the 
spot where, shadowed by the nodding tassels of the 
blue-grass, peacefully sleeps the body of brave, cour- 
ageous, imaginative Daniel Boone, father of the land 
of plenty. 

Peace to the memory of that intrepid explorer of 
what was once the '* dark and bloody ground.^' 



SIMON KENTON: THE PLUCKIEST 

WOODSMAN UPON THE OHIO 

FRONTIER 

IN the year 1773, three woodsmen lay before a 
blazing fire in the American wilderness. Nearby 
ran the muddy waters of the Great Kanawha 
River, and all around were the dense forests which then 
clothed the vast, unpeopled country of the Ohio. 

One was a tall, lean fellow, clad in a soiled suit of 
buckskin. The second, who bent over the fire, was a 
middle-aged trapper, also in buckskin, but with a 
calico shirt above, which showed that he had recently 
been near the white settlements. The third was a 
young chap of but eighteen, tall, well formed, and 
swarthy. His uncut hair fell in dark waves around 
his shoulders, and his whole form was supple and wiry 
to the last degree. 

"Well, Simon Butler,'' said the tall fellow, "I 
reckon that this is about th' best place we've ever 
struck fer a camp ground. An' now that we're here 
we kin rest a bit. But tell me, son, ef you ain't travel- 
lin' sorter under false pretenses. Fer I've a notion 
that your name ain't quite exactly ez you say it is. 
Come now, boy, ain't I right?" 

The young fellow had turned very red beneath the 
sunburn on his cheeks. He stammered out his reply, 

"N-n-ow what do you know?" he asked. "I'm 
75 



76 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

not going to tell you my whole history up to 
now." 

"Might ez well," grunted the tall man. "So long 
ez a feller's a good sort out here, don't make no dif- 
ference what his name might have been back in th' 
settlements. Now, make a clean breast uv it. Ain't 
I a-tellin' you what is right?" 

The young fellow winced. " Well," said he, straight- 
ening up, "I might as well make a clean breast of it. 
My name is n't Butler; it's Kenton, Simon Kenton, 
and I was bom in Fauquier County, Virginia. I had 
as happy a home as any man, and I was expecting to 
settle down upon a farm which my father had given 
me, when I fell in love with as beautiful a girl as the 
sun ere shone upon. But another fellow loved her 
too, a fellow called Leitchman; and because I would 
not give up my suit I was caught and pummeled by 
his friends. I swore revenge upon the man who had 
instigated this. I challenged Leitchman to a stand- 
up fight. We had an awful battle, but finally I got 
him down and tied him to a bush by winding his long 
hair in the branches. Then I beat him so hard that 
he finally lay lifeless before me, — at least, I feared 
that I had killed him. 

"Frightened at this, for I knew that I would be 
hung, I immediately resolved upon flight. I struck 
out for the West. I knew that a reward might be 
offered for my capture, and so I turned my name into 
Butler, instead of Kenton, and as Butler I wish to be 
known. Mind me, now: never give away my secret, 
and always call me Simon Butler, — or else some sharp 



SIMON KENTON, WOODSMAN 77 

ear will catch my real name; I will be caught, and a 
rope will be around my neck.'' 

"I promise you, pardner," said the thin fellow. 
"Strader is the name I go by, but I've had a dozen 
others. Yager, here, our other pal, has also had his 
own experiences about which we'd better say nothing. 
Now, I'm goin' for my traps, and let's hope I've had a 
good day's catch." And, so saying, he was off into 
the wildwood. 

The three men lived peacefully together, trapping 
and hunting. Finally in March, 1773, a body of Shaw- 
nees discovered the home of the bold white invaders, 
and attacked it. As the trappers fled into the forest, 
Strader fell dead; but Kenton and Yager got safely 
off, with no blankets or provisions, but with their guns 
and some ammunition. Hastily they fled through the 
dense wood in the direction of the Ohio River, with 
no guide but the moss upon the trees, on the north- 
ward side, and with very little to eat save squirrels, 
roots, and berries. Finally, upon the fifth day, they 
reached the banks of the river, completely worn out. 
But luck was with them. Below came the smoke from 
a white man's encampment, and, crawling to this, they 
soon found a party of explorers, who gave them enough 
food to sustain their streng-th. They were, for the 
time being, safe. 

But Kenton soon left for a lonely trip into the 
forest, in search of furs; and here he lived until the 
breaking out of Lord Dunmore's War, when he was 
enrolled as a ^scout with the English and Virginian 
troops. He did good service, and with him often 



78 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

was Simon Girty, — that white renegade who made 
the attack upon the pioneer settlement of Bryan's 
Station in Kentucky. At this time Girty was con- 
sidered to be a great scout and soldier, and brought 
much valuable information to the camp of the English. 
The war was soon over, and Kenton returned to his 
life of woodland rover, trapper and explorer. 

Drifting towards the then unknown West, he finally 
reached Boonesborough when it was but a tiny little 
settlement. His life had been adventurous and he had 
many a brush with the redskins, but he now determined 
to join the first settlers of Kentucky in their attempt 
to establish a town in the land of insecurity. Here 
he was employed as a spy, with excellent success, and 
was in the two sieges of that stout and impregnable little 
fortress. 

In the year 1777, several men who were working 
in the fields near Boonesborough were attacked by 
Indians, and they ran towards the fort, which was some 
distance away. A red man caught one of the whites 
and tomahawked him, but as he stooped over to scalp 
him he was covered by Kenton's rifle. A sharp crack, 
and he fell dead. Kenton had shot him from a distance 
of about two hundred yards. 

''Come, boys," cried Daniel Boone at this moment, 
" let's outside to their rescue." 

As he spoke, Kenton rushed out with him, and 
hastened in the direction of the fleeing settlers. The 
red men shot at them as they approached, and Boone 
fell to the ground, badly wounded. A red man was 
immediately upon him, with his knife in the air, but, 



SIMON KENTON, WOODSMAN 79 

as he seized the great pioneer, Kenton sprang at him. 
With the quickness of a cat he felled the red man with 
a blow from his musket, and then seizing Boone in his 
arms ran with him to the fort. The gates were opened 
to receive them and soon all were inside. 

Next morning the great Daniel Boone sent for 
Kenton, and, seizing him warmly by the hand, said: 

"Well, Simon, yesterday you behaved j^ourself 
like a man. You are a fine fellow, Simon. May you 
continue to live, and do other deeds as noble as the one 
which you performed for me. I am deeply grateful.'' 

Kenton smiled, for he knew what these few words 
meant from Boone, the man of action, whose motto 
was to do and not to talk. 

In 1778 Boone led an expedition against the Shaw- 
nee towns upon the Ohio and Little Miami Rivers. 
Kenton went along as a scout, and was one day far 
in advance of the party, when he heard voices in the 
thicket. He stood still behind a tree. As he waited, 
two Shawnees — mounted on a single pony — came 
into view. Kenton waited until they neared him, 
and then fired two shots in quick succession. One red 
man fell dead, and the other was badly wounded, so 
Kenton rushed from his hiding place with a yell of joy. 
But it came near being his last cry, for, as he came up 
to the two redskins, a yell arose from every side, and 
he was soon surrounded by about forty Shawnees. 
He turned and ran as fast as legs could be forced to go. 
By dodging and hiding he at last reached his own 
party, who, advancing to the attack, soon drove off 
the red men. 



80 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

After returning to Boonesborough, Kenton went 
upon a scouting expedition to steal Indian ponies, 
and was so successful that he determined to make 
another attempt. So with two other bold spirits — 
Clark and Montgomery — he started for the Shawnee 
town of Chillicothe on the Ohio River, where the red 
men had many fine horses. He was a true adventurer 
— was Kenton — and we will see how his uncurbed 
spirit got him into many difficulties. 

The three plainsmen reached the vicinity of this 
celebrated Indian town without even seeing a redskin. 
''Ah/' thought Kenton, "this time I will astonish 
those people of Boonesborough, sure. Come, boys, 
we'll put some salt down here, capture the ponies when 
they come up to lick it, and be off before the red men 
know that we've been anywhere near." 

It proved easy to catch the horses. Soon seven 
were procured, and, putting halters on their heads, 
the three scouts were soon riding towards the Ohio 
River. But a terrible rain and wind storm arose. 
They found it impossible to cross the stream, for the 
Ohio boiled and surged like the current of Niagara. 
The horses refused to swim the current, so they had to 
be driven back seven miles to a pasture, where the 
animals could be turned loose to graze. 

Next day the horses were driven back to the Ohio, 
but again they refused to cross. Here was a dilemma 
indeed. Realizing that the red men were now in full 
pursuit, three of the best animals were selected, and 
the adventurers started for the falls of the Ohio River, 
where some white soldiers were known to be. 



SIMON KENTON, WOODSMAN 81 

"By George/' said Clark, when they had gone a 
short distance, ''one of those horses which we turned 
out was the best I ever saw. I, for one, am going 
back to get it. I don't believe the redskins know 
which way we have gone." 

"And we'll go back with you," said both the others; 
so, turning around, they were soon in search of the 
four ponies. It was an unfortunate move. 

The three men separated, in order to cover more 
ground. Kenton, himself, started for the ford in the 
river, where they had endeavored to take the horses 
across upon the day previous. He went along cau- 
tiously. Finally, as he was in a small belt of timber, 
he heard a wild war-whoop just in front of him, warn- 
ing that red men were near. Just then he came upon 
a bank, and, mounting it, perceived a dozen redskins 
before him, gazing at some tracks in the soil. He saw 
that in a moment he would be discovered. So he 
aimed at the nearest Indian, fired, and then ran his 
horse through a clump of woods that had been up- 
rooted by the storm. With a wild yell the red men 
started in pursuit. 

Kenton rode well and hard. As he came out of 
the timber a redskin met him. Leaping from his pony 
the Indian rushed at him with his tomahawk raised. 
The scout had not time to load. He drew back to hit 
him with his gun, when two arms were wound around 
his body. A Shawnee had crept up in the rear, unseen, 
and had him fast. "I surrender," cried Kenton. "Do 
with me as you will." 

The redskins bound him with deer thongs, and as 



82 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

they did so Montgomery (one of his white companions) 
rode up and fired at them. He missed, and with a 
loud yell the red men started in pursuit. In a half 
hour they returned, brandishing his scalp on a long 
pole. "Ugh! Ugh!'' said they. "Your friend he 
make no fight. He one big coward!'' Clark escaped 
their eyes, and arrived safely at a white settlement 
called Logan's Fort.. 

But the Indians were going to have some fun, and 
in their own manner. Catching their wildest horse 
they lashed Kenton to his back, tying mocassins on 
his hands so that he could not untie himself. His 
neck was bound with a thong to the neck of the horse, 
while the red men crowded around, saying: 

"You steal Injun hoss again, heh? Injun got heap, 
good hoss, — you ride away with some? You Long 
Knife like Injun hoss, heh? You steal whole lot, heh? 
Now Long Knife on Injun hoss, but no steal it, heh? 
Ugh! Ugh!" 

Then, having Kenton securely bound, they struck 
the pony with whips, and he ran off into the woodland. 
The unfortunate man on his back was scratched and 
torn by briars and twigs, besides being bumped against 
trees and bruised by being struck by saplings. The 
horse to which he was bound wandered about all day, 
but at nightfall he grew lonely and returned to the 
other ponies with the Indians. He jogged along quietly 
by the side of that of the chief man. 

That night the now half-exhausted Kenton was 
laid upon his back and tied to stakes driven in the 
ground. A pole was placed across his breast and his 



SIMON KENTON, WOODSMAN 83 

arms tied to it; then his neck was tied to a tree. Clouds 
of gnats and mosquitoes surrounded and stung him, 
but, in spite of that, he was left this way for three nights. 

Finally the little party neared Chillicothe, and all 
the redskins in that encampment came out to welcome 
the captors of poor Kenton. When they saw the white 
man they yelped and danced around him, beating him 
with clubs and kicking him. For about an hour they 
continued this treatment, and then left him to the 
gnats and mosquitoes while they had a feast. In the 
morning they decided to make him run the gauntlet. 

As Kenton looked down the two lines of redskins 
— about two hundred in all — he saw that nearly all 
had stout, hickory clubs, but one or two were armed 
with sharp knives. He knew that these intended to 
kill him when he ran by. In an instant his mind was 
made up. When the word was given for him to go, 
he ran as hard as he could, and, just before he reached 
the first Indian armed with a knife, he broke through 
the line and made off to the woods. He could run 
like a deer, and was rapidly drawing away from his 
pursuers, who, with savage cries, started after the 
runaway. 

"Now," thought Kenton, "I can get away.'' But 
his hopes of freedom were to be speedily quenched. 
An Indian, returning from hunting, just then came 
through the woodland, and, seeing the escaped white 
man, made a running dive at him. With a dull thud both 
came to the ground, for the red man would have made 
an excellent football player. In a moment poor Kenton 
was seized and bound, kicked, beaten, and left for 



84 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

dead. But, fearing that their captive would die, some 
red men returned and gave him food and water. " We 
need you,'^ said they. "Ugh! Ugh! We give you 
good trial.'' 

Next day Kenton was taken to the council-chamber. 
In the centre of a circle of warriors stood the oldest 
chief with a knife and a stick in his hand. He passed 
a war club to one of the surrounding warriors, and 
the fellow struck the ground with it. This meant that 
he wished to see the prisoner die. As he did so the 
old man cut a notch upon one side of the stick. But 
some of the red men passed it on, meaning that they 
voted for the life of Simon Kenton, who just about now 
began to wish that he had never seen an Indian pony. 
The head man tallied upon the stick, first upon one 
side, then upon the other; and when all was over it 
could be plainly seen that the verdict was "death to 
the prisoner." 

Kenton looked cheerful, determined to show no 
lack of courage in this trial, for the Indian detests a 
coward. But it must now be decided where he was 
to be put to death. After again taking a vote, it was 
decided that he must die at Wapitomica, an Indian 
settlement nearby. He was taken in charge, there- 
fore, by several braves and marched towards the place 
of execution, passing through many encampments 
en route, in all of which he was forced to run the gaunt- 
let, and was severely beaten and kicked. 

Every moment young Kenton hoped to have an 
opportunity to escape; but he had no chance. Finally 
as they were passing through the last village, one of 



SIMON KENTON, WOODSMAN 85 

his guards let go his hold upon him, and, turning to- 
wards the woods, he ran as he had never run before. 
Although weak from torture and lack of proper food, 
he soon left his pursuers in the rear. Hope rose high 
in his breast. He pushed on, panting, sure that he 
could soon get into the dense forest where he could not 
be tracked. But alas! Suddenly a body of fifty red- 
skins on horseback came in his path. They saw him. 
In a moment he was surrounded, caught, and carried 
back to his guardians, who said with some show of 
appreciation. "Ugh! You Long Knife run like the 
red deer. Ugh! Your name not Long Knife but He- 
Of-The-Winged-Foot." 

They entered Wapitomica, and, as Kenton's face 
had already been stained with black dye, which showed 
that he had been condemned to death, he little hoped 
to go free. But the love of life is strong when one is 
but twenty-three. Eagerly he watched for another 
opportunity to get away, and, as he peered about him 
upon the yelping band which came from their wigwams 
to view the new prisoner, his eye looked keenly for a 
chance to free himself. Suddenly, as he gazed upon 
the howling throng, his eye lighted with a spark of 
pleasure, for there before him was Simon Girty, the 
renegade, and a brother scout in earlier days. 

"Girty!" he ejaculated. "Don't you know me?'' 
The renegade looked at him carefully. "By all 
that's true," he cried, "it's my old friend, Simon 
Butler." Then, stepping to his side, he whispered, 
"Leave it all to me. I'll see that you get away. Say 
nothing, but do as I say, when the time comes." 



86 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

The young prisoner was hurried to the council- 
chamber, and there was asked how many white men 
were in Kentucky. He was true to his friends and 
said that he did not know, but, thinking it better to 
make the numbers greater than they really were, he 
named every man who had some military title attached 
to his name. He thus created the impression that 
the whites were very strong. 

"But what is your own name?" asked a chief. 

"Simon Butler," answered the brave youth. 

Immediately Simon Girty rushed up to him — for 
he had just entered — and embraced him with ardor. 
He kissed him upon both cheeks, and, turning to the 
scowling warriors, addressed them in these words: 

"Warriors, this man is my friend; I desire that you 
give him over to me. See, I have just taken seven 
scalps of the whites, which are at my belt. Warriors, 
shall I be denied what I ask? Wlien has the hand of 
Katepacomen (his Shawnee name) been clean when 
that of his Indian brother was bathed in blood? Has 
Katepacomen ever spared the white man's scalp? 
Now the white brother of Katepacomen has fallen into 
the hands of his Indian brothers, and they wish to tor- 
ture him. Can I stand by and see my brother eaten 
with the flames? To those who are born warriors of 
the Shawnees, the life of a white prisoner is given for 
the asking; will my brothers deny so little a thing to 
the brother born among the white men, who has chosen 
to live among his red brothers?" 

This was spoken in the Shawnee tongue, so Kenton 
did not understand a word of it, but, when the renegade 



SIMON KENTON, WOODSMAN 87 

had finished, it could be plainly seen that the red men 
did not all approve of the ideas which he expressed. 
''Ugh!'' said one chief. "This paleface is a bad man. 
Has he not stolen our horses? Has he not tried to kill 
one of our young men? Such a bad man can never be 
a brother to us, as are you, 0, Katepacomen.'' 

"Ugh! Ugh!'' said another. "Many of our people 
have come a long way to see the paleface killed. We 
cannot be like women who change their minds every 
hour. It will be cruel to disappoint our people. Let 
the paleface be tortured!" 

Simon Girty listened with impatience to these 
remarks. Then, springing to his feet, he said: 

"Warriors, let the war club be again passed around, 
and let us give the paleface his life. Has Katepacomen 
ever spared the white man's scalp? Has he ever plead 
before for the life of a captive? Never before has he 
ever asked a boon of his red brothers, and they always 
graiit such a request to their own brothers. If the 
warriors of the Shawnees trust in the good faith and 
love of Katepacomen, let them give him the life of his 
white brother. I have spoken." 

"How! How!" said the big chief. "Let the war 
club be passed." 

It was handed around, and this time the decision 
was for freedom. 

Thankful, but still afraid, Kenton went to the tent 
of the renegade, who immediatelj^ gave him a suit of 
clothes, as his had been torn from him by the infuriated 
Shawnees. He was fed, warmed, and in a few days 
felt as of old. The renegade had made good his promise. 



88 FAJVIOUS SCOUTS 

So lived the plucky pioneer for about three weeks, 
and he began to think that he would go free. But 
he was to suffer many other misfortunes before he 
would again see his own people. One day as he came 
from Girty's tent, he heard a Shawnee warrior making 
a peculiar whoop. 

"What is that?" he asked of the renegade. 

"That is a call to the council-chamber,^' was the 
answer, " and I fear that your case is again to be tried. 
Come, we must go there, as I am one of the tribe." 

When they entered the dreaded room, the savage 
who had been whooping, gave his hand to Simon Girty, 
but scowled when he saw Kenton and refused to clasp 
his outstretched fingers. Kenton felt a cold chill 
creep down his spine. Many chiefs were there. They 
scowled at the prisoner and refused his hand. "Ugh!" 
said one to him. "This time Long Knife, the horse 
stealer, must die. Your white brother cannot save 
you. You must feed the crows." 

But Simon Girty made an impassioned plea for his 
life, to which the redskins listened courteously, and 
then passed around the war club. Almost unani- 
mously it was decided that the Long Knife should meet 
with death; so, seeing that he could not save his brother 
scout, the renegade came up to him, embraced him, 
and said with feeling: "Well, my friend, good-bye. 
I have tried to save you, but I cannot do so. Good- 
bye." 

Immediately a burly chief seized him by the collar; 
he was bound with deer thongs and given to a guard 
of scowling red men, who made off with him, after first 



SIMON KENTON, WOODSMAN 89 

throwing the rope around his neck. They rode beside 
him on horseback, while he trudged along on foot, en- 
deavoring to keep up his courage, although he now felt 
that his last day had surely come. "I can still smile 
though," said Kenton to himself; and this he did, in 
spite of his predicament. 

Two or three miles beyond Wapatomica, and a 
few yards from the trail, sat a warrior watching his 
squaw chopping wood for the evening meal. When 
he saw the white prisoner, he uttered a loud, guttural 
exclamation. "Ugh! Ugh!" said he. "Paleface kill 
my brother! now paleface die,'' and, seizing an axe, he 
bounded toward the young Virginian. Before the 
guards could stop him, he had struck the defenseless 
young man, and had cut a deep gash in his shoulder- 
blade. He raised his arm for another blow, but was 
overpowered by the other Indians, who said to him, 
"It is not now time for the Long Knife to die. Only 
wait and you shall have revenge.'' 

Almost fainting from loss of blood, the pluckiest 
man upon the frontier staggered onward, and soon 
entered a large village upon the headwaters of the 
Scioto River. The party halted for the night, and 
poor Kenton sank upon a blanket in a swoon. When 
he opened his eyes, a large solemn-visaged Indian was 
standing over him, gazing at his bleeding form with 
an eye of deep compassion. It was Logan, that great 
and eloquent leader of the Mingoes, whose life has 
been sketched in "Famous Indian Chiefs." The great 
chieftain's heart was touched by the manly beauty 
and courage of the young Virginian. Always of a 



90 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

compassionate disposition, he was moved by the mis- 
fortunes of the luckless captive, and his words bore 
full witness to his thoughts : 

"I am a great chief," said he. ''You are to go to 
Sandusky, where they speak of burning you. But 
you will not be burned, for I will send two runners there 
who will speak well of you. What Logan commands 
is seldom disobeyed. Be of good cheer. You shall 
not be made away with. I have spoken.'^ And, so 
saying, he walked solemnly away. 

Kenton was much cheered by this piece of news. 
He stumbled into Logan's tepee, and remained there 
quietly throughout the evening. In the morning 
the two runners were dispatched to Sandusky, as Logan 
had promised, for he was a man of the greatest truth 
and honesty. The prisoner did not again see the 
solenm chieftain until he was about to leave for San- 
dusky, when the friendly Indian walked up to him, 
gave him a piece of bread, and said: 

"You are to be taken to Sandusky. Logan says 
good-bye, '^ and then walked away. 

When the little party arrived at Sandusky, the 
prisoner's high hopes were again dashed to the ground, 
for he learned from his guards that Logan's intercession 
in his behalf had been in vain. " You are to be burned 
tomorrow morning," said one of his Shawnee com- 
panions. "Pray to the Great Father, for nothing 
now can save you." Kenton — as usual — smiled. 

As he stood dejectedly in the village street, a French- 
man called Captain Drewyer, who was employed by 
the English as Indian agent, came in view. When he 



SIMON KENTON, WOODSMAN 91 

saw the white man, his face changed its expression. 
''Voila/' said he. "A captive, eh? To be burned, 
eh? We will see, — we will see;" and, so saying, he went 
into the Indians' council house. 

In a half an hour he came out smiling, and walking 
up to Kenton said, with great friendliness: 

'^ You are to go with me to Detroit. I haf won you 
from the bloodthirsty redskin. Tiens! You owe me 
a barrel full of beaver-skins, for I haf saved your own 
skin. Voila! Be cheerful! You shall haf a dre-enk 
of wine.'' 

In a few moments Drewyer set out for Detroit 
with his overjoyed captive. "At last," thought the 
half-famished Kenton, "I am free from the shadow of 
death. At last." But the English employee was most 
curious to know the strength of the whites in far distant 
Kentucky. 

''The Americans there, my boy. How many are 
there? Eh? How many forts, eh? Are they as 
strong as the English in Canada, eh?" 

"I am only a private in the army," said Kenton. 
'' Being so low in rank, my range of vision is small. 
I have seen little, for I have had plenty to do wherever 
I have been stationed. The men are many, but how 
many I cannot say." The Frenchman saw that he 
could get little information, so gave up his interroga- 
tions. '' You shall haf good treatment," said he. '' You 
are a brave fellow." 

The two travellers arrived at Detroit in October, 
and there Kenton remained for eight months in fairly 
strict confinement, for he had a wide range by day, but 



92 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

had to report to the British officer every morning and 
evening. It took him some time to get over the treat- 
ment which he had received at the hands of the red 
men; for he had been made to run the gauntlet eight 
times, had been tied to the stake on three occasions, 
and had received twenty knife thrusts, besides a cut 
from an axe, in his slender body. But youth quickly 
recuperates, and Kenton soon was planning to escape 
to his friends and companions in far-away Kentucky. 

At Detroit were two young Kentuckians who had 
been captured from Boone and Logan's command at 
the battle of the Blue Licks. "Oh for one more sight 
of Old Kentucky,'' said they to the young frontiers- 
man. "If it only were not so far, and if we only had 
some guns." 

"I can get those from the redskins," Kenton re- 
plied. "We will hide them in the woods, and some 
day, when all is propitious, we will escape.'/ 

Through a citizen of the town, some ammunition 
was secured and hidden in the woods. Three rifles 
were purchased from the red men through presents 
of rum. Finally, when all was quiet one afternoon, 
the three prisoners met in the woodland and turned 
toward the South. They plunged onward through 
the wilderness, and in one month were in Louisville, 
Kentucky. At last the hardy Kenton was back among 
his own. Pluck and courage had won, and a year of 
captivity, torture and exile had been brought to a 
glorious close. Three cheers for the nerve of Simon 
Kenton! Hurrah for the Virginian boy with the pluck 
of ten! 



SIMON KENTON, WOODSMAN 93 

The sturdy pioneer did not rest upon the reputation 
which he had acquired, but soon again entered the 
frontier service as a guide and scout, often penetrating 
the hostile region from which he had just escaped. 
And now a good piece of news reached his ears from 
far distant Loudoun County in Virginia. Leitchman 
(the fellow whom he thought that he had killed) was 
not dead, but was very much alive, and a prosperous 
farmer. "Henceforth I am no longer Simon Butler,^' 
cried the refugee. "I am once more Simon Kenton, 
the Virginian; and now I will communicate with my 
family, and get them to move to Kentucky, — the land 
of the blue-grass and the sunshine." This he did; 
his parents crossed the mountains into the fertile coun- 
try and took up a large plantation upon the frontier, 
where, much to their annoyance, they were frequently 
attacked by prowling bands of Shawnees. But Simon 
Kenton and a band of other pioneers had many a fight 
with the redskins. At last they were driven back 
across the Ohio to remain. When "Mad Anthony" 
Wayne marched against Little Turtle* and fought him 
at Fallen Timbers, it sealed the fate of the red man's 
supremacy in this country. Simon Kenton was a 
major in Wayne's command, but he was not present 
at the great fight, — much to his regret. Kentucky 
was henceforth a land of whites; the redskins had been 
driven from that "dark and bloody ground" which 
was once their great hunting ground, — the home of 
the elk, the bison, the beaver, and the bear. 

Daniel Boone became involved in troubles over 

*See description in " Famous Indian Chiefs." 



94 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

his land in later years, and so did Simon Kenton. Both 
had poor and illegal title to great tracts of territory 
in Kentucky, and both, to escape law suits, moved into 
the then unsettled State of Missouri, across the turbid 
current of the Mississippi. Kenton's lands in Ken- 
tucky were forfeited to the state for taxes, while he, 
in quiet and seclusion, lived near the little town of 
Urbana, in central Missouri, until the fighting in the 
War of 1812, between Great Britain and the United 
States. The old frontiersman's blood was again aroused 
at this time, and, joining the force under General Shelby 
which marched towards Detroit, he was present at the 
great battle of the Thames, which settled the disputed 
western boundaries between the two governments. 
The redskins were no longer on the warpath, and, 
strange as it may seem, Simon Kenton moved to a 
cabin near the old Indian town of Wapatomica, — the 
scene of his earlier persecutions by the savages, forty- 
two years before. 

Kenton was now very poor, but he possessed one 
sorry-looking old nag. '' I am going back to Kentucky,'' 
said he one day, " and see if I cannot get back some of 
my land. I have fought for my State. I helped to 
make it what it is. The people should do something 
for me in my old age. If I know the warm hearts of 
the Kentuckians, they will not let me starve now that 
I am poor and too crippled to work." 

The shabby old scout stopped at the house of 
Major Galloway, at Xenia, Ohio, upon the first night 
of his journey. When his fellow Kentuckian saw his 
ragged clothes and spavined mare, he exclaimed: 



SIMON KENTON, WOODSMAN 95 

"Any State which could leave a famous fighter 
like yourself to starve in his old age has no idea of 
justice. Simon Kenton, you will have assistance from 
our people. I can assure you of that. And, if they 
will not assist you, I will." 

In Louisville a friend gave him a suit of clothes 
and a hat. Thus, cleanly dressed, the old man went 
to the State capitol and here was greeted with loud 
acclaim by the prominent men of the State. " It was 
the proudest day of my life," he used to say long after- 
wards, "when they took the old pioneer, placed him 
in the speaker's chair, and gave three cheers for the 
'pluckiest man on the old frontier.'" 

Yes, pluck, which has always been appreciated 
by the American people, was warmly appreciated then. 
Simon Kenton had his lands restored to him, and had 
a pension granted him by the fair State whose early 
struggles he had been a part of. Now, with a sufficiency 
to insure an old age of no actual want, the aged pioneer 
returned to his little cabin upon the Mad River in Ohio. 
Here he would often sit before the threshold of his 
humble abode, and in the long, warm days of summer, 
while the veery's flute-like notes sounded from the 
dogwood tree, would call to his memory those thrilling 
scenes through which he had passed when a youth. 
He had camped, trapped, fought, and scouted through 
a great wilderness which was now peopled by the men 
of his own race. He had seen the gradual winning of 
the Middle West, first by the English, then by the 
Americans. He had witnessed the gradual extinction 
of the red men, those warriors of cruel hearts in war- 



96 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

fare. He had seen the first flatboat upon the Ohio 
River, and the first log house in the wild regions near 
that bending stream. He had made history. 

So dreamed the old frontiersman, and so quietly 
ended his life. In 1836, at the ripe age of eighty-one, 
the hand of Death touched him gently upon the shoulder; 
and, in the silence of the forest — that silence which 
he loved so well — his friends buried the body of the 
staunch old veteran pioneer. 

If you admire pluck, admire this man. If you 
care for bravery, here is a person who possessed it. 
And the lesson of his life is a good one for young men 
to remember. It is: Never lose your courage, no mat- 
ter what is the situation in which you find yourself. 
Never give up. You do not know when your luck is 
going to change. Keep a stiff upper lip, and, perhaps 
when you least expect it in a trying situation, something 
will happen that will rescue you. Be brave; smile in 
adversity; and in the end you will win. That is what 
saved Simon Kenton, the pluckiest man upon the Ohio 
frontier; and that is what will save you. Do not forget 
the life of this veteran pioneer! 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY: THE GREAT- 
EST LONG-DISTANCE JUMPER OF 
AMERICAN HISTORY 

AT the beginning of the American Revolution a 
company of volunteer riflemen was formed in 
Western Pennsylvania, called Captain Low- 
den's Company. A commission was offered to a young 
fellow called Samuel Brady, who was known to be an 
expert rifle-shot and woodsman. But the youth's 
father objected. "Let my son first learn to obey me," 
said he, "and when he has learned that lesson, he will 
know all the better how to act as an officer. I want 
obedience at home before obedience in camp." 

And from this it can be reckoned that young Samuel 
Brady was a pretty skittish young blood, and did not 
take any too kindly to the strong rule of his stern old 
father. But this did not affect his value as an Indian 
fighter, as will be seen. 

Shortly after enlisting, young Brady was sent to 
Boston with his company, and took part in the siege 
of this city, which was held by British troops. While 
sitting upon a fence one day with his captain, a cannon- 
ball stnick just beneath them, and exploding, hurled 
them high into the air. Brady lighted upon his feet, 
but his superior officer struck upon his head and was 
quite dazed. Brady rushed to him, picked him up, 
and carried him to the shade of a tree. 

97 



98 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

"Are you hurt, sir?'' he asked with much soHcitude. 

"No/' repHed the captain. "But, young man, as 
I see that you came down upon your feet, instead of 
upon your head, it means that you are a fellow who 
deserves promotion. I think that I must raise you to 
a lieutenant." And this he promptly did, — much 
to the joy of the young soldier. 

Lieutenant Brady fought through the Revolu- 
tionary War, and so distinguished himself at the battle 
of Monmouth — that fight in which Washington so 
severely reprimanded General Lee — that he was made 
a captain of infantry. This was in June, 1778. But 
while the Americans and British struggled for posses- 
sion of the eastern colonies, the red men attacked those 
families upon the frontier which could be easily reached 
from their own towns and settlements. Then Pitts- 
burg, Pennsylvania, was on the border, and Brady's 
own homestead was in a wild and wooded district. It 
was attacked one day by a roving band of redskins; 
his father and brother were killed; and while Brady 
prepared to take part in the battle of Paoli, he was met 
by a fellow-soldier from Pennsylvania who told him the 
sad news. Brad)^ listened to him with a face which 
exhibited the greatest sorrow; then, raising his hand 
aloft, he said: 

" From this time on, every redskin whom I meet in 
the West shall fall before my rifle. I shall have re- 
venge a thousand times over for the lives of my own 
people. I know the red men. They are treacherous 
dogs. Henceforth they shall feel the enmity of Samuel 
Brady, as they have never before felt the enmity of 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY 99 

any white man." The soldiers nodded their approval. 

History records nothing about this famous frontier 
fighter for some time. But in 1780, we know that 
this fearless fellow, now in Pennsylvania, was sent by 
the commander of the fort at Pittsburg to Sandusky, 
Ohio, in order to find out the numbers of British and 
Indians at this stockade and fort. It was a journey 
of several hundred miles, and it was one of danger, for 
prowling bands of red men hovered between the strong- 
holds of the rival governments. Young Brady wel- 
comed the opportunity for a hazardous trip; and, with 
several rangers and four Chickasaw Indians as guides, he 
set out early in May in the direction of Lake Erie. All 
were dressed as Indians, and made their way through 
the wood with the greatest care. 

Broadhead, the commander at Pittsburg, had given 
a map of the country to the adventurous soldier, but 
it was not at all correct. The food supply gave out 
because the distance to be traversed was far greater 
than it was considered to be by the crude map-maker 
who had sketched out the wilderness way. So the 
little party lived on fish, which were in abundance in 
the brooks and streams; and by hiding in the trees during 
the day, and travelling only at night, they finally neared 
the goal for which they sought. And now the four 
Chickasaw guides deserted. 

Nothing daunted, although he knew that they 
had gone over to the enemy, Brady took two men 
and crept on to a position near the Indian towns and 
British fort at Sandusky. An island near the fortress 
was covered with driftwood, and wading out to this at 



100 K4M0US SCOUTS 

night, Brady and one companion hid themselves be- 
hind a pile of broken branches. At daybreak a dense 
fog hmig over the river and hid the Indian village from 
view, but at eleven o'clock it lifted, and before their 
eager eyes lay a long line of Indian houses and a strong 
log fortress. The redskins were having horse-races 
on a piece of flat ground nearby, and their wild yelping 
could be easily heard by the two scouts, who drew an 
accurate picture of the place upon a piece of paper 
which Brady had had the foresight to bring along with 
him. 

The two white men lay in the driftwood all day, 
and at night they waded through the river and joined 
their companions. They turned their faces homeward, 
and by travelling only at night, soon had put a respect- 
able distance between themselves and the red men at 
Sandusky. But their ammunition gave out when the 
Big Beaver River was reached; so, with his last piece of 
lead in his flintlock, Brady left his companions in order 
to look for game. He was desperately in need of fresh 
meat. 

He had not far to look, for as he crossed a clearing 
within rifle range of his party, a deer jumped from 
its bed among some boughs and ferns, and stood 
broadside on, offering an excellent shot. The ranger 
fired, but his flintlock refused to go off. The deer 
bounded away, and, after cleaning the priming-pan, 
the frontiersman started in pursuit. He had gone but 
a few feet when he heard a noise, and, looking in front 
of him, saw an Indian buck, mounted upon a pony, 
and holding a child in front of him. The child's mother 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY 101 

was behind upon the horse's withers, and several other 
warriors followed. 

The fierce passion which burned in Brady's heart 
against all redskins now took possession of his common 
sense. Inspired by an ungovernable desire to put an 
end to the red warrior, he aimed at him, pulled the 
trigger, and the chief fell from the back of the horse. 
Then, shouting loudly, as if an army were behind his 
back, ''Come on, men! Stampede the redskins!" he 
rushed to the side of the fallen warrior and seized his 
powder horn. As he reached him, the Indian woman 
thought him one of her own race, for he was dressed like 
a red man, and his face was darkened by long exposure 
to the elements. 

"Why did you shoot your red brother?" said she. 
"He did you no harm." 

As she spoke, Brady recognized her, and cried out, 
"Jenny Stupes! I am Captain Samuel Brady. Follow 
me instantly, and I will save both you and your child 
from my hundred followers who are just about to attack." 

He dashed into the brush, just as the Indians fired 
a volley at him. The mother followed and, fearing 
an ambuscade from the whites, the redskins held off; 
for they heard what the crafty Brady had said regard- 
ing his hundred followers. 

Next morning Brady reached Fort Mcintosh with 
the Indian woman and her child. His men were there 
waiting for him. They had heard his cry to the red 
men in the forest, but, knowing that they possessed 
no powder and ball, had feared to join him. Brady's 
nerve had saved his scalp, and the news which he brought 



102 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

to General Broadhead at Pittsburg, with the plans of 
Sandusky, materially aided in the successful attack 
upon the British and Indians by the Americans some 
months later. Bald Eagle, a great war chief of the 
Shawnees, was slain, and the cornfields of those redskins 
who were friendly to the English cause were laid waste. 

But Indian depredations still continued, and so 
successful was Captain Brady in capturing, killing, and 
fighting the red men, that many of the officers at Pitts- 
burg became furiously jealous of the man. Finally, 
several of them went to General Broadhead and re- 
quested him to allow them to make an attack upon the 
redskins, but to leave Brady behind. As a murderous 
foray had just been made by the red men upon Sewick- 
ley, these officers and many men were allowed to march 
out in order to revenge the affair, and Brady was given 
no part in the expedition. 

When the great Indian fighter thought the matter 
over, he decided that he would like to make a little scout 
in the direction of the enemies of the frontier. Broad- 
head, at first, would not allow him to leave the fort, 
but finally gave him five rangers and one "pet" Indian 
as a guide, and cautioned him not to interfere in any 
manner with the depredations of the other party. 
Happy and smiling. Captain Brady set out upon his 
mission of revenge. 

The large party had followed directly upon the 
Indian trail, but Brady made a long detour through the 
forest, determined to head off the red marauders at 
a distance from the other party. The seven well- 
trained woodsmen moved with speed, and upon the 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY 103 

fourth day from Pittsburg, struck the fresh trail of the 
Indian party. The redskins had canoes, were paddhng 
up the river by day, and were resting by night. Luckily 
they had a stolen horse with them which had to be led 
along the bank, and he made such a plain trail that the 
enemy could be easily followed. No signs were seen 
of the other party of Americans from the fort. 

The seven woodsmen crept silently upon the Indian 
camp one evening, and waited in the darkness for day 
to dawn. At daybreak the redskins awoke; and stand- 
ing about the fire, recalled their triumphs, the injury 
inflicted upon their enemies, the scalps taken at Sewick- 
ley, and the booty which they had carried off. "How! 
How!'' spoke a chief. "We are great warriors! We 
make the palefaces groan ! Ugh ! Ugh !" 

As he ceased speaking, a rifle spoke in the half light. 
The red man reeled, and fell across the burning logs of 
the fire. Crash! A volley from six rifles poured into 
the circle, and above the din could be heard the wild 
war-whoop which Captain Brady always used in an 
Indian fight. 

"The Great Snake is here," cried the redskins. 
"We must flee for our lives." And they stampeded. 

One red man, who was badly wounded, was followed 
by the traces of blood upon the ground. The "pet" 
Indian gave the cry of a young wolf; the wounded man 
paused and answered, — for this was the cry of a friend 
of the Shawnees and other allied tribes. He stopped, 
but seeing Brady, turned and ran like a deer, in spite 
of his wound. The great Indian fighter fired, and 
with a wild yell the redskin fell prostrate in the forest, 



104 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

but so busy was Brady that he did not see the effect 
of his shot. Three weeks later, when again near this 
place, he was attracted by a great crowd of ravens, 
and going to the tree where they had collected there 
found the remains of the red man whom he had dropped 
when running, at a distance of over one hundred yards. 

Seizing the horse and plunder of the red invaders, 
the captain and his followers returned to Pittsburg, 
where they found the other soldiers. They had followed 
the Indian band until the red men took to their canoes, 
and had then turned back. Imagine their jealousy 
and chagrin when they saw what the seven skilled 
woodsmen had accomplished. ^'That Brady is a true 
Indian fighter," said they. ''He is a born woodsman. 
We cannot compete with this man. He is a genius." 

But matters were not always successful with the 
famous soldier. One day he was out alone upon a 
scout, when a dozen redskins surrounded him. He 
ran for his life, but unfortunately a long vine caught 
his leg, tripping him up, so that he fell sprawling upon 
the earth. He was immediately pounced upon, dis- 
armed, bound with deer thongs, and carried in triumph 
to the Indian camp, where wild yelps of joy greeted the 
entry of the fortunate red huntsmen. ''Ow! Ow!" 
screeched the red men. "Ow! Ow! The Big Snake 
has been captured. The Big Snake shall be tortured. 
At last we shall revenge the death of our many brothers. 
Ow! Ow!" 

Joy shone in the eyes of all the red men, women, 
and children as they danced around their dreaded 
enemy. For years he had been the terror of the frontier; 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY 105 

so much so, that when mothers wished to quiet their 
babes they would tell them that Brady, the Big Snake, 
was abroad and would catch them. A large fire was 
lighted for torture. With yells, threats, curses, and 
abuse, the horde of redskins danced about the defense- 
less man, striking him with firebrands and knives; 
yelling their defiance in his ears. In two lines they 
formed to make him run the gauntlet, while additional 
wood was thrown upon the fire in order to make it 
hotter. 

Finally Brady was unbound and told to run be- 
tween two lines of savages, many of whom had knives, 
so that his quick eye perceived it would be impossible 
for him to come through alive. As the last thong 
was removed, the head chief's wife came near, a babe 
in her arms. Quick as a flash, Brady seized the infant 
and hurled it into the fire. With a wild yell of horror, 
most of the redskins leaped forward to rescue it, and, 
with a mighty spring the well-named Big Snake leaped 
to freedom. A dozen bounds brought him to the edge 
of the wood; a few more and he was inside the pro- 
tecting tangle; then, running like a deer, he soon out- 
distanced his pursuers. Nerve and quick action had 
again saved his life. The Big Snake was free. 

Near Beaver, Pennsylvania, is a small, round hillock 
called "Brady's Hill." This commemorates a stirring 
incident in the life of this extraordinary woodland 
soldier, which well deserves to remain in history. Fort 
Mcintosh formerly stood near this town, and from this 
Captain Brady set out with several men for a raid 
upon the hostile settlements at Sandusky. The raid 



106 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

was successful at first, but finally the little party was 
pursued by a great number of redskins, who killed all 
of the rangers but Brady. Hot was the chase, and the 
frontiersman, as usual, kept well away from his pur- 
suers, for he was very fleet of foot. But they gained 
upon him; some even got ahead and threatened to 
cut off his line of retreat. He became aware of this 
just as he reached the top of the little hillock which 
has received his name. 

Before the fleeing frontiersman lay a tall tree, 
recently prostrated by a severe storm. The leaves 
were thick upon the branches, — thick enough, in fact, 
to hide among. Immediately he decided to crouch 
down in their midst. 

First, however, the skilled woodsman decided upon 
a ruse which was common among men of the forest. 
Walking up to the tree, he moved backward in his 
own footprints for the space of a few hundred yards, 
then forward again to the tree trunk, in his own tracks, 
in order to make his trail very plain to the eyes of the 
red men. He then hid in the thick, leafy tangle of 
branches and awaited developments. Three redskins 
soon appeared, carefully following his trail. They 
came to the tree, found that it stopped here, and that 
no footprints led away. At a loss to know what was 
the meaning of this, they seated themselves upon the 
tree trunk in order to discuss the matter. They were 
close together, and this is exactly what Brady had 
wished for. 

Captain Brady peered through the leaves, took a 
deliberate aim at the nearest red man, and pulled the 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY 107 

trigger. At the crack of the rifle, one fell dead, while 
the other two also sank to the ground, sorely wounded. 
In an instant Brady was upon them with clubbed flint- 
lock, and in less time than one can tell it, the two red 
men lay dead. Uttering his peculiar yell, the success- 
ful strategist turned towards the fort, and before night 
fell was safe inside its protecting walls. 

Another place nearby is still called Brady's Run. 
This is a small stream issuing from a crystal spring 
called Bloody Spring, — although this is due to its 
past history and not to its present condition; for no- 
where is a spring so clear, so cool, and inviting. 

Not long after the escapade at the fallen tree, a 
strong body of roving red men made an attack upon 
the settlements near Fort Mcintosh, and, although 
they took no scalps, they burned a number of houses 
and captured two women and several children. Re- 
treating towards their own settlements, they camped 
near a crystal spring, and, tying their victims, settled 
around them for a night of peaceful slumber. The 
whippoorwills called to each other in the dusk, as the 
Indian camp became quiet; and, lulled by the soft 
breeze in the leafy branches, the red sentinel nodded 
quietly, while the ruddy glow of the embers lighted 
the bodies of slumbering whites and dusky conquerors. 
A branch snapped and the red man roused himself, 
but only the chirring of crickets came to his ear, and 
the plaintive call of the whippoorwill, far off in the 
hemlock forest. Throwing a dead branch upon the fire 
the watchman settled himself upon his blanket with 
a grunt of satisfaction. 



108 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

"Ugh!" he muttered. "Heap quiet. I no fear. I 
go sleep." 

In a few moments his head fell upon his breast, 
and deep breaths showed that he had lost consciousness. 
Immediately a twig snapped. Another and another 
cracked loudly. Then, with a bound, four dark figures 
leaped from the woodland into the fire's glow. Thud! 
A tomahawk was buried in the brain of the nodding 
sentinel. Thud! Another hatchet felled a second war- 
rior; and, as the redskins roused to fight, the shrill, 
awful wail of Samuel Brady welled above the silence 
of the forest. The Big Snake was among them. 

In a few moments the last Indian had been dis- 
patched. Four men had killed over a dozen, and, as 
daylight broke, Brady with his faithful followers car- 
ried the women and children back to their own people. 
But the spring was dyed red with the blood of the red- 
skins, so that to this day it has been known as the 
Bloody Spring. 

Now we come to the most extraordinary event in 
his career, an event which — like the famous ride of 
Israel Putnam — shall live forever in the annals of 
frontier history in America. This is his famous leap, 
— a leap which, had he been a college athlete, would 
have won him a silver cup, a championship, and a long 
notice in the newspapers. It shows what a man of 
agility and quickness he was, and speaks worlds for 
his great nerve and courage. 

With his usual daring. Captain Brady, with a small 
party, bad penetrated the wilderness near the Indian 
towns at Sandusky, when his party was severely at- 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY 109 

tacked. In the retreat Brady became separated from 
the rest of his men, and headed for Fort Mcintosh. 
Most of his twenty followers were captured and killed 
near a small lake in what is now called Portage County 
in Ohio; but the Big Snake, as usual, got away. 

The Indians, realizing who was ahead of them, 
hotly pursued the fleeing scout. For days they chased 
him, until he reached the side of the Cuyahoga River, 
which flows into Lake Erie near Cleveland, Ohio; but 
runs far into the State. Brady found himself surrounded, 
and as he ran towards the river, which here drops through 
a deep gorge, the red men (thinking that they had him) 
made wild yells of delight, and tauntingly cried after 
him, ^' Big Snake, we got you. Good-bye to Big Snake. 
His scalp shall hang in our wigwams. Good-bye." 

As the scout looked before him, he saw a yawning 
chasm of between twenty-five and twenty-seven feet. 
It did not take him long to make up his mind what he 
was to do. Summoning all of his strength, after throw- 
ing away his gun, he made one dash for the bank, and 
leaping far out, spun through the dizzy space. The 
Indians stopped in wonder and amazement as the 
courageous frontiersman struck the other bank, seized 
firm hold of some bushes, and gradually dragged him- 
self upon the firm soil. "Hah!'' he yelled back at his 
pursuers. "My scalp won't hang in your wigwams 
to night!" And then he let forth that well-known 
howl with which the redskins were so well acquainted. 
It was part human, part inhuman; a cross between 
the wail of a panther and the scream of a loon. 

Furious with anger to see the escape of their foe, 



no FAMOUS SCOUTS 

the redskins fired at the disappearing fugitive. One 
bullet struck him in the leg. In spite of the wound, 
Brady made off towards the small lake, which now 
bears his name; while the red men ran below the gorge, 
crossing the stream at the Standing Stone, where the 
banks of the Cuyahoga are gently sloping. Seeing 
that they were gaining upon him, the ranger plunged 
into the water, waded out to a clump of water-lilies, 
and cutting one with his knife, inserted the long stem 
in his mouth. Then, like a muskrat, he slowly sub- 
merged himself, breathing through this tube. The 
lily-pads were all around him, and he was most effect- 
ively concealed. 

The redskins easily followed his trail to the edge 
of the lake, for his wound had bled profusely. They 
searched the shores for his track. He had gone in but 
had not come out again. ^'Ugh! Ugh!" said one. 
"The Big Snake weak from his wound. He go in big 
water. He drowned there. He know we kill him if 
we catch him." In spite of this, they looked for him 
all day, and at last returned to the place where he had 
leaped the chasm, in order to make a close inspection 
of it. When night fell, Brady slowly emerged from 
the water, and made his way to the settlement at Fort 
Mcintosh. He was always very deaf thereafter, due 
to his long inomersion in the cold waters of Brady's 
Lake. 

Meanwhile the redskins had made up their minds 
that their fugitive was protected by the Great Spirit. 
"He no man. He no jump across the river. He wild 
turkey. He fly," said they, as they looked at the 



CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY 111 

chasm, certain that not one of them could leap across 
it. And so certain were they of the charm which hung 
over the Big Snake, that they carved upon the rock 
to which he had leaped the rude picture of the foot of 
a wild turkey. This remained as they had left it, 
until 1856, when Judge Moses Hampton, of Pittsburg, 
cut it out and removed it to his own home. 

The distance of this famous jump has been measured 
several times. The measurements vary from twenty- 
five to twenty-seven and a half feet. It is thirty feet 
from the cliff to the clear waters of the Cuyahoga below; 
so if Brady had slipped and fallen, he would have been 
badly bruised, and no doubt would have had a broken 
leg. The record for the broad jump in American field 
games is about twenty-four feet, six and one-half inches. 
The world's record is twenty-four feet, seven and one 
quarter inches. You therefore see that this frontier 
fighter was an athlete of no mean merit, and, stimu- 
lated by a band of hostile red men in his rear, jumped a 
distance which has never been equalled in athletic con- 
tests. Long may his memory live among the sport- 
loving people who now exist and thrive in the country 
which he helped to capture from the red men. 

The gallant captain never fully recovered from this 
affair. The bullet wound which he had received in 
the leg lamed him for life, and, although a comparatively 
young man when this celebrated flight occurred, he 
looked like a man well advanced in years. Rough life 
and exposure to the weather had done their work. 
We know that he was married to a Miss Drusilla Swear- 
ington, the daughter of an officer in General Morgan's 



112 FMIOUS SCOUTS 

rifle-corps, — and the lady must haye had much forti- 
tude in order to endure the anxiety which her hus- 
band's frequent engagements and skirmishes must 
have caused her. Two sons were born to them, when 
Hving in West Liberty, West Virginia; and here the 
bold and intrepid Indian fighter died, about the year 
1800, — although history has given us no record of the 
exact date. 

May the remembrance of this famous frontiersman 
be kept green, for his courage and bravery were of the 
greatest. If the people of America continue to produce 
men of such a mold, the volunteer army will never be 
lacking for material in time of war, or for athletes to 
win upon the cinder-path and tan-bark in time of peace. 



THE TWO ATHLETIC POES, AND MAJOR 

SAM McCULLOCH, THE DESPERATE 

RIDER OF WEST VIRGINIA 

MANY men have left records of daring, who Hved 
at the time of Daniel Boone; in fact it is dif- 
ficult to pick and choose among the lesser 
lights who were conspicuous upon the frontier. The 
Kentuckians, Virginians, and Pennsylvanians have 
many records of their "mighty hunters,'' and among 
these none had a more thrilling experience with the 
red men than the brothers Adam and Andrew Poe, 
who resided in Washington County, Pennsylvania. 
Both were able-bodied pioneers, and both were skilled 
in trapping, shooting, and finding their way in the 
dense woodland. 

The country near the farms of these two brothers 
was constantly raided by unfriendly Wyandots, who 
burned and scalped with a ruthless hand. Finally 
they murdered some peaceful settlers within a mile 
of these two pioneers and carried off an old man into 
captivity. This was more than such virile frontiers- 
men could stand and, riding about the neighborhood, 
Adam Poe soon collected a force of twelve frontiers- 
men who, mounted upon stout horses, soon set out to 
follow the trail of the marauders. 

The foot-prints of the redskins could be easily fol- 
lowed, as there had been a heavy rain, and the posse 

113 



114 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

had gone only about ten miles when it became evident 
that the Indians were directly in front of them. 

"Be quiet, men/' cried Andrew Poe, "for now we 
are near the marauders and must use every precaution 
before we approach them. If they know that we are 
here they will undoubtedly kill the prisoner. '^ 

In spite of the warning the pioneers continued to 
make a loud noise, so, leaving them, stout Andrew 
crept towards the bank of the river where he heard the 
red men making some disturbance as they disembarked 
from their canoes. Cocking his flintlock — for all 
rifles in those days were muzzle-loading pieces — he 
moved towards the water's edge, and as he peered over 
a clump of brush, he saw several birch-bark canoes 
lying before him. No red men were in view. Worm- 
ing his way along, he soon approached the river, when 
suddenly — as he arose from the bushes — two Wyan- 
dot warriors stood before him. One was a small, wiry 
red man, who had a gun in his hand, fully cocked. 
The other was a man of gigantic size ; far larger, in fact, 
than Poe himself. It was Big Foot, a celebrated 
Wyandot chieftain and terror of the border. He, too, 
was armed with a flintlock. 

Poe determined immediately what to do. To re- 
treat was impossible. So, aiming at the large red- 
skin, the nervy pioneer pulled the trigger. The big 
chief was looking down the river at the rest of the 
whites who had just reached the edge, so did not see 
the stout-hearted pioneer. The rifle missed fire. Poe 
dodged into the thick rushes, and, as he lay there, 
he heard the larger party of whites retake the prisoner 



THE TWO ATHLETIC POES 115 

from the rest of the Indians, down stream. He again 
primed his rifle, crept to the edge of the bank, and 
pointed it at the big redskin. He pulled, but it re- 
fused to go off for a second time. And now the two 
warriors saw him. To lie still was useless, so dropping 
his rifle Poe sprang upon the redskins. They wheeled 
— when his gun snapped — but so sudden was his 
onrush that they had no time to raise their own flint- 
locks before he was upon them. Poe caught each by 
the neck and, as he was a powerful man, threw both 
to the ground. 

The red men lost their guns as they fell, for they 
were completely surprised. Fortunately for Poe their 
other arms were in the canoes, and as Big Foot was 
beneath stout Andrew, and the other Indian a bit to 
his right, for an instant the white man had the ad- 
vantage. So busy was he with his hands that he could 
not reach his knife at his belt. He made several efforts 
to get it, but Big Foot caught his hand and held it in 
an iron grip, while he gave directions to his companion 
in his own tongue. Suddenly the crafty red man re- 
laxed his grasp and jerked Poe's hand as it was upon 
his knife belt. The knife flew out of his fingers and 
struck the ground. 

As this occurred, the small red man broke loose 
and ran to the canoes, returning in an instant with a 
long tomahawk. Wliile Big Foot held the white man, 
the little Indian took aim and drove at his head. But, 
with one swift kick, Andrew Poe struck his arm, and 
the weapon spun from it into the river. Big Foot let 
forth a furious yell of disappointment. 



116 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

In a second the thin red man returned to the canoe 
for another weapon and, seizing a second tomahawk, 
once more rushed to the attack. He made two feints 
in order to draw Poe's attention from Big Foot, and then 
with a sudden, swift lunge, drove the weapon straight 
for his head. Poe threw up his arm, received the blow 
upon his right wrist, and the tomahawk spun away 
in the air. 

The Indian was after it in a jiffy. He picked it 
up and again advanced to the attack. He was dancing 
about the struggling men, looking for an opportunity 
to deal a death blow, when Poe with a sudden jerk 
wrenched himself loose from Big Foot, seized one of 
the guns, and shot the red man dead. Why had not 
the little Indian done the same to him, you ask? Be- 
cause he feared in shooting Poe he would also shoot 
his friend and, believing that he had a sure thing, 
preferred to deal the death blow with a tomahawk. 

The blood was flowing freely from the wound in 
Andrew's wrist, and, as the little redskin dropped, 
Big Foot seized him by the shoulder and right leg. 
Poe grabbed him by the neck and, locked in this em- 
brace, they both fell into the river together. Here 
each had the same thing in mind, — to drown the other. 
They struggled fiercely. Farther and farther into the 
stream they went, now one on top, now the other, until 
they were thirty yards from the bank. Poe at last 
got on top and, seizing the tuft of hair on Big Foot's 
head, kept him under water until he thought that he 
had drowned him. 

Now thoroughly exhausted with his efforts, and 



THE TWO ATHLETIC POES 117 

with the loss of blood, he released his iron grasp, and 
swam with his left arm to shore. Big Foot was not 
dead. He was like an opossum and had been "play- 
ing possum.'' Immediately he too struck out for the 
bank and, with his eye upon the second rifle, swam 
energetically to reach it first. Poe's injured arm handi- 
capped him and Big Foot first reached the shore. With 
a yelp of defiance he seized the gun and attempted to 
cock it. As luck would have it, he drew the hammer 
back so far that it stuck. The second rifle lay there, 
unloaded, as Poe had fired it at the little Indian when 
he had dispatched this energetic enemy. 

Andrew Poe swam on hoping yet to dodge his enemy's 
bullet. As he splashed to shore, his brother Adam 
suddenly appeared, attracted by the noise of the dis- 
charge of the rifle which had killed the little redskin. 
His gun, alas, was unloaded, as he had just fired it at 
the other group of red men. Seeing the predicament 
of Big Foot, who, seizing the second rifle, began to load 
it, Adam too rammed home a charge. Luck was with 
the scout. In his nervous haste the redskin dropped 
his ram-rod, and this momentary delay gave Adam 
the very opportunity that he wished. Putting his own 
flintlock to his shoulder, he took careful aim and fired. 
With a loud yell the celebrated Big Foot fell, mortally 
wounded. One of the gamest struggles in frontier 
history was over. 

Without waiting a second, Adam Poe leaped into 
the water in order to help his brother, but, seeing the 
redskin tumbling into the river, Andrew cried out: 

" Let me alone, Brother; I'll get out all right. Get 



118 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

the redskin's scalp before he rolls into the water.'' 
But Adam thought more of his brother than he did 
of the Indian, and despite this protest he hastened to 
drag him ashore. The red man, although in the throes 
of death, purposely hurled himself into the water so 
that his enemies could not get his scalp. He sank, 
and the swift current carried him from view. 

Meanwhile the other pioneers had had a desperate 
fight with the rest of the Indians and had killed all but 
one. The white prisoner had been retaken. Hearing 
the sound of Poe's battle with the two red men they 
hastened to his relief, and as they neared the scene of 
the struggle one pioneer mistook Andrew (in the water) 
for a red man. Firing quickly, he wounded him in 
the shoulder; then, realizing his mistake, dashed for- 
ward and was the first to pull him out. 

Big Foot had been killed in this skirmish, and four 
brothers with him. All were celebrated warriors among 
the Wyandots, and their death crippled the tribe severely. 
Several times the red men endeavored to avenge this 
loss, but they were unsuccessful, and Andrew Foe, 
recovering from his wounds, lived for many years. 
In his old age he would often tell with great relish 
the story of his desperate battle with the two red men, 
and well might he be proud of the affair, for it was a 
masterful struggle. Remember the two athletic Foes, 
for this true battle was more desperate than that written 
by any author of stirring tales! It well deserves to 
live in the memory of those who admire manly pluck, 
courage, and endurance, as does the spirited horse- 
back rider, Major Sam McCulloch of West Virginia. 



THE TWO ATHLETIC POES 119 

Virginia has always been noted for her riders. It 
is a great State and a fertile one. The mountain coun- 
ties, such as Loudoun and Fauquier, are rich in blue- 
grass, limy water, and broad pasture lands, where 
horses are easily fed and developed. Today the best 
blood in America finds a place in the ample barns of 
the hospitable farmers, and today no better horses 
are bred than in this garden spot — cool in summer; 
pure with the breath of mountain air; and rich with 
the dark, loamy soil of marvellous strength and vigor. 

The men of this country early learn to ride, and 
early learn to love a good horse. Even the poorest 
of them has a mount of thoroughbred blood, although 
his other possessions may be small and meagre. When 
Virginia was just settled, no man was more fond of a 
good animal than Major Sam McCulloch, a famous 
ranger, and as good a rider as the far-famed General 
Jeb Stuart of Civil War fame, and Colonel John S. 
Mosby, the partisan scout and cavalryman of those 
stirring times. He hunted, trapped, and scouted all 
over this gorgeous mountain section and, in the course 
of his career, found himself one day near the little 
town of Wheeling, now the capital of West Virginia. 

Then this big city was but a small collection of 
twenty-five log huts, protected by Fort Henry, a quar- 
ter of a mile away. Many were the brushes with the 
red marauders — Wyandots, Shawnees and Delawares 
— and one day four hundred of the hostiles attacked 
the place, determined if possible to lay it in ruins. 
The settlers, terrified but game, hurried into the fort, 
there to defend themselves and their families. Twenty- 



120 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

six were shot as they ran to the protection of the stock- 
ade, and there were only forty-two men in all to defend 
it, before this loss. 

Messengers were hurried to the neighboring settle- 
ments for aid. Fifteen frontiersmen fought their 
way into the stockade without losing a man. This 
gave the garrison courage, but the men began to cheer 
when they saw fully forty horsemen at the edge of the 
cleared space surrounding the little log fortification. 
They were rangers, scouts and trappers under Major 
Sam McCulloch, — the gamest fighter and best rider 
then upon the border. "Hurray! for Sam McCul- 
loch!" shouted the garrison. "Now we'll give the red- 
skins thunder. Hurray! Hurray!" 

The red men, appreciating that they must annihi- 
late this band, attacked the rescuers with fury. They 
poured a deadly rifle fire among the Virginians, but the 
men dismounted and, firing from behind their steeds, 
gradually worked their way up to the gates of the fort. 
The doors were thrown open; they dashed inside; 
but, as they yelled their joy, a sudden quiet came. 
Out in the woodland could be seen the bravest of them 
all. Major Sam McCulloch. He was cut off, surroimded 
by an overwhelming body. He would be taken, tor- 
tured and killed. 

Four hundred Indians crowded in upon the des- 
perate leader with wild, exultant yells of vindictive 
joy. He was well known to them. They hated and 
despised him, for he was more than a match for their 
best warriors and, with his band of frontier rangers, 
had often defeated them in battle. Now that they 



THE TWO ATHLETIC POES 121 

had him in their power, nothing could exceed their 
joyous satisfaction, and wild were their whoops as they 
closed in upon the cool-headed horseman. 

But Sam McCulloch had been in desperate situa- 
tions before. In a flash he saw that he could not gain 
the fort. The Indians were running in upon three sides, 
leaving only one way for escape, and that to the rear. 
Spurring his horse, he wheeled around and dashed 
full tilt for this opening, which led towards the brink 
of a precipice one hundred and fifty feet above the 
waters of Wheeling Creek, which peacefully wound a 
gentle course far below. The red men, little thinking 
that he would try this opening, had left the way 
clear. 

The major was mounted upon a three-quarter-bred 
bay gelding, the type of horse that is now used for 
fox-hunting in "Ole Virginiah.'' The animal was well 
schooled to jump, and bounded over the fallen trees 
in his way with ease and freedom. The noble animal 
reached the edge of the deep ravine and, for an instant, 
the brave major curbed him. The redskins were press- 
ing close, yelping like timber wolves, for already they 
felt that he was theirs. "I prefer death to torture,'' 
said the horseman to himself. "Here goes,'' and, 
plunging his spurs into his willing steed, he leaped out 
into the air. The redskins stopped in wonder and 
amazement, for their quarry had vanished. 

Dowm! Down into the yawning depth spun the 
horse and man. Down! Down! Then thud! Splash! 
they struck in the middle of the stream. The horse's 
legs ploughed deep into the sandy bottom, but he was 



122 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

not injured, and scrambling to the other shore bore 
his rider, dripping, to the bank. 

Major McCulloch turned with his fist clenched and 
shook it at the silent red men who, clustering upon 
the edge of the precipice, looked down upon the fugitive 
in wonder and amazement. "Ugh! UghT' said one, 
"the Great Spirit is with him. He rides the horse of 
the Evil One. We cannot catch him.'' 

And so saying, the redskins returned to the siege 
of the fort, which was so well defended that they could 
not take it, while several miles away rode Major 
Sam McCulloch, quietly laughing at the wonder and 
amazement of the warriors from the West, and patting 
gently upon the neck his truest friend in all Virginia. 
To his speed and courage he owed his life. A toast to 
this noble animal, — the gamest steed that ever broused 
upon the blue-grass pastures of the Old Dominion. 



LEWIS AND CLARKE: THE FIRST BOLD 
EXPLORERS TO REACH THE PACIFIC 
BY THE NORTHERN ROUTE. HERE 
IS THE HISTORY OF TWO LION- 
HEARTED MEN 

MOST of the vast country west of the Mississippi 
River was owned, in 1803, by France. Spain 
had made a secret treaty with France by which 
she ceded the territory of Louisiana, embracing the 
present States of Montana, North and South Dakota, 
Wyoming, Nebraska, Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Kan- 
sas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Indian Territory, and part 
of Colorado. President Jefferson, learning of this 
treaty, sent a commission to France to purchase the 
island on which New Orleans stood, and also the right 
of a passage to the sea. While Napoleon Bonaparte 
was considering this, he came forward with an offer 
to sell all of Louisiana to the United States for twenty 
million dollars. After bargaining for a while, the 
vast territory was purchased for fifteen million dollars. 
Bonaparte was delighted. "This accession of terri- 
tory,'' said he, rubbing his hands, "strengthens for- 
ever the power of the United States. I have given 
England a rival upon the sea, which will sooner or later 
humble her pride.'' 

Very few people realized the value of the newly 
bought possessions, and many roundly abused Jeffer- 

123 



124 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

son for making it. But the western settlers were over- 
joyed. ''At last,'^ said they, "we have room for ex- 
pansion. Hurrah for Jefferson." Highly delighted 
at his success, the president recommended to congress, 
in a confidential message, that a party should be dis- 
patched to trace the Missouri River to its source, cross 
the Rocky Mountains, and go to the Pacific Coast. 
The plan was approved. Captain Meriwether Lewis, 
the president's private secretary, being appointed to 
lead the expedition which was to consist of nine young 
Kentuckians, fourteen United States soldiers, two 
French watermen to serve as interpreter and hunter, 
and a black servant for Captain William Clarke, who 
was a joint commander. Theirs was a wonderful 
journey and it gave to the people of the eastern sea- 
board their first Imowledge of that vast territory which 
lay beyond the turbid current of the Mississippi. 

Upon the twenty-first of May, 1804, the little band 
of bold-hearted explorers left the mouth of the Mis- 
souri River and struck out towards the unknown West. 
Wliat must have been their feelings as they headed 
into the unknown? How their very souls must have 
thrilled at the thought of penetrating into that un- 
explored region, from which had come only rumors of 
fierce tribes of red men; of vast herds of game; of deep, 
plunging rivers, beetling mountains, and unpenetrable 
forests of hemlock, fir, and pine. They had the deep 
satisfaction of knowing that they were the first white 
men to penetrate the wild West and, like the followers 
of Peary, the Arctic explorer, their spirits must have 
thrilled with the thought of being the first men to see 



LEWIS AND CLARKE 125 

and to know this vast region of mountains, water courses, 
and plateaus. I have travelled upon their old trail 
and when first viewing the towering peaks of the Rockies, 
was so overwhelmed by the gorgeous vista that I could 
not suppress a cheer. How must it have affected these 
lone wanderers, — the very first white men to see the 
serried columns of this magnificent range, and to know 
that they would bring the first written word of the scene 
to the anxious ears of thousands of their fellow white 
men? I'll warrant that they were often startled by 
the very grandeur of the scenes which lay before them. 
Fortunate men to be the earliest pioneers to see this 
gorgeous country. 

The little party camped, at the end of August, upon 
a high bluff, surrounded by a beautiful plain. Here 
a number of red warriors met them and said, "We 
would speak with you. We wish big talk.'' 

So Lewi^ and Clarke held a pow-wow with them. 
"We love white sons of the great father," said one 
chief. "We welcome them to Indian country. But 
Indian is poor. White brother rich. He have stick 
which shoots fire. Cannot white brother give red 
brother present. How! How!" 

All spoke in the same way, so they were presented 
with various glass beads and trinkets, a feast was held, 
and promising that they would not disturb them, 
the redskins allowed the whites to pass on up the Mis- 
souri River. Lewis called the place Council Bluffs, 
and now the prosperous manufacturing town of that 
name — a populous city of Iowa — stands where was 
held this noted conference between the first white 



126 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

explorers of the virgin West, and those who could have 
stopped the expedition had they so wished. 

But things were not always peaceable. Soon the 
little band of adventurers had come to the land of the 
Sioux — the strongest, richest, and most warlike of 
all the western tribes — and one day were surprised 
to find that their best horse had been stolen. Next 
day they saw several redskins upon the shore. 

"We are friends," said Clarke from his boat. "We 
wish to remain such. We are not afraid of any Indians. 
Some of your young men have stolen the horse which 
your great white father in Washington sent for your 
great chief. We cannot treat with you until it is 
brought back to us." 

The whites were in several boats and, as they pulled 
up the Missouri, the Indians followed upon the bank. 

"We not seen your horse," said they, through the 
interpreter. "We wish to come on board your boats. 
We want to shake hands with you." But Lewis and 
Clarke would not stop. 

Next day fifty or sixty chiefs and warriors came 
down to the water's edge. "How! How!" said they. 
"We wish to come on board your canoes. How! 
How!" 

"You can come on board," said Lewis, ''but you 
must not take anything that is not given to you." 

"How! How!" said the redskins. 

The red men were much interested in what they 
saw, particularly in an air gun; while a quarter glass 
of whiskey given to each made the red men love their 
white brothers to such an extent that they would not 



LEWIS AND CLARKE 127 

move. Finally they were persuaded to go ashore, but 
they had conceived an idea of stopping the whites 
until they could secure more "fire-water/' so when 
the boat grounded it was tightly held by several of the 
red men. One old chief pretended to be intoxicated 
and cried out : 

"You no go on. Indian keep you here. You got 
to give Indian heap more presents, — not 'nough yet. 
Indian want heap presents." 

But Captain Clarke grew angry. 

"We will not let you keep us here," he thundered. 
"We are not squaws. We are warriors. Our great 
white father has sent us here. He can send his men 
armed with the fire sticks [rifle] sand can kill all of you 
in an hour if you harm us." 

"Indians have warriors, also," said the chief, signal- 
ling to his men. 

Immediately Captain Clarke drew his sword and 
cried out, "Men, prepare for action." As he spoke 
the soldiers loaded their guns, pointing them at the 
redskins, while the other boats hastened to the rescue. 
The red men were bending their bows and arrows, 
but when they saw the other boats approaching they 
withdrew, and could be seen talking to one another 
very vociferously. Bold Clarke knew that if he pushed 
on up the Missouri leaving an enemy in his rear it would 
be unwise, so he rowed towards them, holding out his 
hand in token of friendship. 

The chiefs, at first, refused to come near. But 
after a while they grew friendly and, not only ap- 
proached, but came on board the vessel. The peace 



128 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

pipe was smoked; the whites were invited to the Sioux 
village, and there a great feast was spread before them, 
including boiled dog, which was the favorite dish of 
the redskins. The red men refused to deliver the 
horse-thief and, deciding that it was wisest not to 
press the matter, the little band of adventurers pressed 
farther up the mighty river. 

Now the journey was peaceful and easy. Various 
bands of the Sioux lived along the banks of the stream, 
and these were all friendly. Day after day they rowed 
and poled their shallow craft up the beautiful river, 
carrying around the rapids and falls, camping beneath 
the splendid shade trees, and living from the antelope, 
wild duck, and fish which they took. The days grew 
shorter, great flocks of geese flew over their heads 
upon their journey south, and, realizing that winter 
was upon them, the adventurers stopped at a place 
which they christened Fort Mandan, — sixteen hun- 
dred miles from the mouth of the Missouri River. 
Friendly Indians were around them and brought them 
dried squashes, corn, and other vegetables. They 
had no diflSculty of getting along with the bands of 
Sioux, Mandan, and Minnetaree redskins who con- 
stantly visited the little log huts which they had here 
erected. 

The winter passed away; some of their men were 
attacked by roving Sioux, when sent off for a supply 
of meat, but none were killed. When spring came, 
wdth great good spirit and confidence in their own 
ability to reach their goal, the little party turned to- 
wards the setting sun and pressed onward upon their 



LEWIS AND CLARKE 129 

mission. All were well and in excellent health; their 
leaders were full of joy at the expectation of soon reach- 
ing the great mountains which the Indians said, "Are 
bold and strong like the arm of the Great Spirit.'' 

On the eleventh of May one of the soldiers left the 
boat and went ashore to hunt, but in the course of 
half an hour he was seen running towards the river, 
with fear and distress plainly marked upon his coun- 
tenance. When he came near enough to talk, he said 
that he had not gone far before he had stumbled upon 
a great brown bear of enormous size. He had fired 
and wounded him. The animal had turned to follow 
but, weakened by loss of blood, had stopped just be- 
fore he had reached the vicinity of the boat. 

"Let me see the fellow," cried Captain Lewis, as 
he scrambled ashore. "I'll lay him low, Til warrant." 

Together with seven men he immediately set out 
to find the wounded animal and, tracking him by his 
blood, soon found where he had lain down in the brush, 
after digging a hole two feet deep to lie in. The animal, 
snarling and growling, staggered upon his feet in order 
to rush the white men, but they soon shot him dead. 
"By heavens," wrote Clarke in his diary, "we had 
rather encounter two Indians than meet a single brown 
bear. They are strong, powerful, and very fierce. 
We obtained eight gallons of oil from this monster." 
And monster he was, indeed, for the party had stumbled 
upon their first grizzly bear, — the monarch of the 
Rocky Mountains and lord of the foothills. 

Nor was this the only one that they saw. Some 
time later Captain Lewis went out upon the plains to 



130 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

hunt and there discovered an immense herd of buffalo. 
He determined to shoot one and, after creeping care- 
fully near a bunch of cows and bulls, wounded a fine, 
fat cow. He was so interested in watching this animal 
that he did not notice a huge grizzly which stole up 
upon him until it was scarcely twenty feet away. Hear- 
ing a slight noise, the huntsman turned, and as the 
bear perceived him he rushed upon him with open 
mouth. Captain Lewis immediately turned to run, 
but grizzlies are very fast, and he found that the bear 
w^ould overtake him. Unfortunately he could not 
load his rifle while on the run and, if he should stop to 
do so, he knew that the huge beast would be upon him 
with open jaws. 

Luckily the river was near and, racing to the bank, 
the breathless soldier waded out to his arm pits, where 
he knew the bear would have to attack him by swim- 
ming. Now seizing his hunting knife, he raised it above 
his head, determined to die game, if he had to. But 
Bruin thought better of the attack when he saw his 
adversary in such an excellent position for defense. 
Giving a few angry sniffs and growls, he turned about 
and lumbered away, while Lewis, clambering from the 
cold water, vowed that never again would he leave his 
rifle unloaded after firing a shot. 

If you look at the map of the United States, you 
see that the largest branch southwestward from the 
head of the Missouri is the Yellowstone, and that the 
great Rocky Mountains intervene between the mighty 
watercourse and the Columbia, which empties into 
the Pacific Ocean. In going up the Missouri, the ex- 



LEWIS AND CLARKE 131 

plorers were in doubt which stream led to their goal 
when they arrived to the place where the Yellowstone 
meets the greater stream and, consequently, a part 
went up the Missouri, while the rest paddled westward 
up the Yellowstone. Captain Clarke — in charge of 
the men on the Yellowstone — discovered the great 
falls and, then realizing that he was near the end of 
that stream, turned about, retraced his steps and joined 
Captain Lewis who had gone some distance up the 
turbid Missouri, which runs up to the Rockies. The 
adventurers learned that the tribe of Shoshones in- 
habited the land which they intended to cross. When 
they met some of these Indians they did all in their 
power to get on friendly terms with them, for they 
knew that if angered the redskins could soon wipe 
out the few explorers. On August 18th they reached 
the extreme point of navigation of the river and, 
realizing that it would be best to make a dash for the 
coast with but half of the party, they decided that 
Captain Clarke, with eleven men, should make the 
overland journey to the Columbia River. The rest 
were to camp where they were until the return of their 
fellows. 

"The country in front is held by a fierce and war- 
like people,'' said the Shoshones. "They live upon 
horses stolen from those who pass the mountains. 
They sleep in caves. A desert lies before you ten 
days' journey in width, where no animals or food is 
to be found. Your horses will all die of thirst. You 
cannot go on." 

At first Captain Clarke believed these tales, but 



ou§ 



132 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

seeing that the Shoshones were anxious to have him 
spend the winter with them so that they could get 
more presents out of him, he secured sufficient horses 
for his command and pressed westward by the northern 
route. Lewis joined him, for he thought that the 
Indians were treacherous and, if he remained among 
them with his small party, he feared a massacre. 

The pioneers had been awed and inspired by the 
wonderful scenery which lay before them. Rugged 
mountains were there: brown, steep, hemlock-clad. 
Deep game trails led through the tangled meshes of 
the forest and, in the sparkling riverlets, trout jumped 
at the floating gnats and insects. Gorges and canyons 
had to be passed, where the howling waters raced in 
an apparent agony, and flute-like came the sound of 
the rush of the snow-cold water against the pebbly 
bottoms. At night the scream of the mountain lion 
echoed across the silent valleys, while the bleat of the 
antelope could be heard upon the vast plains near the 
river bed. Eagles soared above, peering disdainfully 
at the black specks of men beneath, and sage hens 
craned their necks at them when they tramped from 
the river in search of game. Over all was the clear, 
pure air of that vast mountain plateau which invigor- 
ates, stimulates, and makes one feel as if he had the 
strength of ten. Inspired and stimulated by the thought 
that they were making history, the men pressed on, 
determined to view the gray waters of the fog-sheeted 
Pacific. 

The great, awe-inspiring Rockies were soon crossed. 
A country was entered which was arid and bare. Barbed 



f 



LEWIS AND CLARKE 133 

thorns and prickly pears lacerated the feet of the men 
and horses. No living creature was seen for several 
days, except a few sage hens and "gophers/' — a small 
squirrel-like rodent. In September a snow storm 
chilled them and, as their provisions grew scant and 
low, it was apparent that if more favorable lands were 
not reached some of the men would die. Yellow wastes 
covered with sage brush were on every hand, and it 
seemed as if this tiresome plateau would never be 
crossed. 

Finally, as many were despairing, an Indian vil- 
lage was reached, where the sun-burned explorers were 
received with kindness and were fed. The red men 
were Nez Perces. Although their chief was away with 
a war party, by using flattery and dispensing many 
trinkets among the women, enough food was secured 
to last many days. The adventurers had travelled 
one hundred miles between the southern and northern 
forks of a river which they named the Lewis, — after 
their courageous captain, Meriwether Lewis. It is 
now called the Snake. They were weak from fatigue 
and disease, but determined to descend the river in 
canoes of their own construction and, as food was low, 
dined from a number of Indian dogs, — a dish which 
they had scorned when with the Sioux. Hunger un- 
makes many an epicure. 

At last the determined men of braw^n and courage 
were upon the last lap of the great journey westward. 
Launching their canoes, they drifted down the Lewis 
River into the broad waters of the Columbia, and by 
easy stages paddled towards the rolling ocean. Num- 



134 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

berless bands of red men visited them as they went 
on. When they neared the coast some Nez Perces, 
who had come with them, said, "We go back. Indian 
down here no Hke Nez Perce. Scalp us. We go home.'^ 

They were persuaded, however, to remain with the 
party until the falls of the Columbia had been passed. 
And after these had been left behind, with joy and 
exuberance, the travel-scarred voyagers dug their 
paddles into the water and drove the light canoes to- 
wards the sea. Early in November, upon a beautiful, 
clear day their eyes were gladdened by the first sight 
of the great Pacific Ocean, and with loud and vociferous 
cheers the first white men to cross the north-central 
section of the American continent paddled into the 
broad expanse at the mouth of the swift-flowing Colum- 
bia. The continent had been crossed. After trials, 
many and varied, Lewis and Clarke had won, and the 
flag of the infant Republic waved from the green hills 
of Columbia Bay. 

The tired adventurers rested at the coast from 
November to March of the following year, occupying 
their time in curing meat for the return trip, in dressing 
skins for clothing, and in exploring the coast. The 
Indians were friendly. As spring came, the men turned 
their eyes towards the East and, after leaving written 
descriptions of their journey with the redskins and 
posted up in their log huts, they started toward the 
Rocky Mountains on March the twenty-third. By 
offering their services as physicians to the Indians 
whom they met, they always obtained enough fresh 
meat to sustain their strength. The tribes were hos- 



LEWIS AND CLARKE 135 

pitably inclined nearer the Rockies, and thus, slowly 
but surely, Lewis and Clarke, with their adventurous 
following, neared the Great Divide. 

One incident upon the return journey is worthy 
of mention. When the explorers were among the 
Blackfeet Indians, who lived in the country which is 
now the northwestern part of Montana, they met with 
decided hostility from the red men. The Blackfeet 
had the reputation of being great thieves, and when 
the little band of whites was encamped near Mario's 
River several redskins were seen hovering nearby by 
one of the white scouts, — a Canadian called Drewyer. 
Knowing that a fight with the entire tribe of Black- 
feet would mean annihilation. Captain Lewis advanced 
towards the red men with a flag of truce tied to his 
ram-rod. After circling about them for some time, 
on their ponies, the Blackfoot warriors — eight in 
number — apparently assured that the whites were 
friendly, came toward them, dismounted, shook hands, 
and smoked with them. 

Captain Lewis found that the red men enjoyed 
smoking the stone pipe immensely, so he remained 
awake until a late hour, entertaining his guests. Then 
the red men lay down to rest and, as soon as their 
deep breathing showed that they slumbered, the watch- 
ful captain awoke a trapper called Fields, telling him 
to arouse him in case any red men left the camp, as he 
knew that they would probably try to steal the horses 
of the white men. He then lay down in the same tent 
with the Indians, while Fields settled himself near the 
fire. 



136 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

At sunrise a Blackfoot brave seized the rifles of 
several men and began to run off. Fields saw him and 
gave chase. The Indian ran hard, but the trapper 
overtook him and, seizing him by the body, stabbed 
him with his knife. The redskin was killed, and the 
white sentinel returned to camp with the rifles. 

Captain Lewis was lying side by side, with Drewyer, 
the Canadian, with both of their rifles near enough to 
be instantly seized, when two Blackfeet entered the 
tent, one of whom seized Lewis's rifle. As he touched 
the gun, Drewyer, who was awake, jumped up and 
wrested it from him. The noise of the scuflfle awoke 
Captain Lewis, who reached for his gun only to find 
it gone. The other redskin had seized it and was mak- 
ing off with it as fast as he could run. 

Captain Lewis, seizing a pistol from his belt, im- 
mediately pursued. 

''Lay down that gun,'' he shouted in the Indian 
tongue. 

The Indian stopped and, as he did so some of the 
pioneers drew a bead upon him. 

"Don't fire, men," cried Lewis. "He seems to be 
going to give up my gun, and I would rather not kill 
any of them, for if we do the whole tribe will be after 
us." 

"Look, Captain," cried one of his men. "The red- 
skins are trying to drive off afl the horses." 

And as Lewis looked, he saw the Blackfeet driving 
all of his men's ponies towards a deep niche in the river 
bluffs. The leader of the expedition immediately made 
after them. 



LEWIS AND CLARKE 137 

"I will fire/' he shouted, "unless you give up our 
horses." 

The red men kept on, but with one skillful shot 
Captain Lewis dropped one of the Blackfeet. The 
others ran away, driving only one horse before them, 
and running after the others, the pioneers soon had 
them in camp. 

"We must leave in hot haste," cried Captain Clarke. 
"These Indians will tell of the death of their fellows 
and the whole Blackfoot nation will be out after our 
scalps. Hurry men! Saddle up! We must be away!" 
The men did not have to be greatly urged. They 
soon were off, and the little band travelled for a hun- 
dred miles before, almost exhausted by fatigue, they 
halted at two o'clock in the morning. At daylight 
they were off again, fearful that each moment they 
would hear a wild war-whoop in their rear. But they 
were not pursued, and escaped in safety. 

Ever afterwards the Blackfeet were bitter enemies 
to the whites, and in the advance of pioneers into the 
far West they rivalled the war-like Sioux in their 
hostility, blood-thirstiness, and hatred for the Anglo- 
Saxon invaders. 

The men with Lewis and Clarke lost many of their 
horses. Unseen red men hovered around the camp 
and made away with them in the darkness. Finally 
the}^ were forced to again take the boats of their own 
construction, and in their skin canoes the sturdy 
adventurers paddled a cautious way down the Mis- 
souri. There were frequent alarms about hostile war 
parties, but luckily they were only once attacked, 



138 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

when Captain Lewis received a bad wound which gave 
him much pain and discomfort for many weeks. Late 
in September, 1806, the travel-scarred party neared 
St. Louis, on the Missouri, — then the furthermost 
white settlement in the wild, western country. 

The band of explorers had travelled more than 
seven thousand miles by horse, foot, canoe, and batteaux. 
They had treated with all the Indian tribes who had 
been met with, and had made a fairly accurate map 
of the country through which they had passed. The 
plants, animals, and birds of this vast, unknown region 
had been carefully observed and written about. The 
red men, their customs, dress, and habits had been fully 
described. The trappers under Lewis and Clarke 
had made a great journey, — one of the most preten- 
tious in all history, for it threw open a rich and fertile 
territory to white settlement. 

Lewis says in his diary: "When we reached St. 
Louis we received a most hearty and hospitable wel- 
come from the whole village. All greeted us as if 
returned from the dead." And well might he and 
his men be greeted! They were world conquerors, 
in the best sense, in that they had blazed the way for 
thousands of sturdy homeseekers, who soon followed 
in their wake, building homes, cities, manufacturing 
plants, railroads, and telegraph lines, where once had 
roamed the lordly bison, the herds of dun colored ante- 
lope, the vast bodies of stately elk; and where, in the 
silence of the forest, the grizzly bear — monarch of 
the plains and mountains — had moved in the peace 
and seclusion of the wilderness. 



LEWIS AND CLARKE 139 

As long as the Anglo-Saxon race endures, and men 
love bold courage and indefatigable labor, the names 
of William Clarke and Meriwether Lewis will be revered, 
honored, and respected. And it is just and fitting 
that this should be so. 



COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT: BEAR 

HUNTER, CONGRESSMAN, AND 

DEFENDER OF TEXAN 

LIBERTY 

Remember the Alamo! 

There, in the sunset glow, 

Texan and Spanish foe 

Fell in the battle. 

Shrill came the bugles' blare, 

Sharp through the flame's red glare, 

Crockett had done his share 

In the death grapple. 

IN Tennessee, in the year 1823, three men were run- 
ning for Congress. One, Colonel Alexander, was a 
highly educated soldier. Another, General WilUam 
Arnold, was a large land owner and a man of much 
oratorical ability. The third, Dav}^ Crockett, was 
a poor woodsman and pioneer, whose small log cabin 
and meagre possessions were nothing compared to the 
riches of the other two. A mass meeting was held, 
where the three candidates appeared, and Crockett 
opened the meeting by making a few humorous remarks. 
When he came down from the platform, he was succeeded 
by Colonel Alexander who, in turn was followed by 
General Arnold. That gentleman refused to consider 
Crockett seriously, as he was a backwoodsman with 

140 




COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT 



DAVY CROCKETT 141 

little education or refinement, and in all of a long 
speech did not even make a reference to him. 

The general's remarks were well received by the 
crowd. He spoke fluently and well. No doubt he 
would have made a great impression at the meeting, 
but for an incident which now occurred. 

While General Arnold was concluding with a won- 
derfully eloquent plea for his cause, a flock of guinea 
hens flew near the stand, and set up such an awful 
clatter that the speaker could hardly make himself 
heard. He stopped talking, and said: 

'^Please drive those beastly guinea fowl away, for 
I cannot bear their racket. It is ear splitting!'' 

As he ceased, Davy Crockett (the despised opponent) 
arose and said, with a merry twinkle in his eyes: 

^'Well, colonel, you are the only man I ever 
met who could understand fowl language. You did 
not have the courtesy to even mention me in your 
speech, and when my speckled friends, the guinea 
fowls, came up to protest, with the cry of ' Crockett, 
Crockett, Crockett,^ you are so uncivil as to order them 
away.'' 

The crowd roared with laughter. General Arnold 
was so disconcerted that he abruptly left the stand, 
and so well did this please the voters that the election 
which followed resulted in favor of rough Davy Crockett 
by a majority of twenty-seven hundred and forty-eight 
votes, out of about twenty thousand votes cast. His 
humor had won him the coveted honor of Representative. 

This extraordinary humor is what gave Davy 
Crockett — the son of a poor backwoodsman who had 



142 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

fought in the Revolutionary War — his great popu- 
larity, for at one time he was one of the most popular 
men in public life. Bom in Tennessee, he had eight 
brothers and sisters, and, although sent to a back- 
woods school, ran away after he had been there four 
days. There was little for him to do at the country 
tavern kept by his father in Jefferson County, Tennessee, 
and so the truant hired himself to a cattle dealer. With 
him he travelled as far east as Baltimore but, losing 
his occupation after the sale of the cattle, engaged 
himself as a cabin boy to make a journey to London 
on a sailing vessel. A wagoner now gave him a position 
as driver of his cart, and the stout-hearted youth took 
charge of a load of flour, which he delivered at Mont- 
gomery Court House, Virginia. Here he hired himself 
to a farmer, but left him at the end of a month to accept 
a position with a hatter, who soon left the country, 
badly in debt, leaving the light-hearted Davy without 
a cent, but with a suit of clothes upon his back. He 
was now about fifteen years of age, and so absolutely 
ignorant that he did not know a single letter of the 
alphabet. 

Homesickness compelled him to return to the place 
of his birth in Tennessee, but here he was so laughed 
at for his ignorance, particularly by a young girl with 
whom he was in love, that he determined to go to school 
and make up for his early lack of "book learning." 
He therefore engaged himself to a Quaker schoolmaster 
and worked for him two days in the week in payment 
for instruction for the other four. Under this arrange- 
ment he received tuition for six months, then left in 



DAVY CROCKETT 143 

order to be married. He says in his book, ''I learned 
to read in a primer, to write my name, to cypher some 
in the first three rules of figures, and to read a few verses 
in the Bible." This was all the schooling that the 
hero of the Alamo ever received. 

No one opposed his marriage more than his aged 
mother, but at the last moment the old lady relented, 
gave her son her blessing, and soon came to see him 
in a rough little cabin which he built for his wife, — a 
sweet and good-natured daughter of a pioneer. For a 
time he farmed it but, hearing of a more fertile country 
further on in the wilderness, soon moved his wife and 
few effects to a clearing near Winchester, Tennessee, 
which was quite near the hunting grounds of the war- 
like Creek Indians. Soon he was called out to defend 
both home and hearth against these marauders. 

In the essay upon Weatherford, the Creek con- 
spirator, in "Famous Indian Chiefs,'' I have told how 
the redskins, infuriated at the advance of the superior 
race of whites into their territory, suddenly attacked 
the frontier fortress of Fort Mimms, massacring all the 
soldiers, women and children who were inside. How 
the whites were furiously angered by this awful butchery, 
and how five thousand militiamen from Kentucky and 
Tennessee, under Andrew Jackson and Coffee, marched 
against them. How Weatherford was beaten at Tallus- 
hatches and Fort Talladega. How he made a last desper- 
ate stand at the Great Horseshoe Bend of the Talla- 
poosa River, in Alabama, and how, crippled and worn 
out, he finally gave himself up to Old Hickory. 

Davy Crockett was one of the first to enlist with 



144 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

the army of white avengers and, with his trusty flint- 
lock called '* Old Betsey/' was prominent in all the fierce 
battles of this campaign. But food was scarce, and 
he had to leave the marching troops on more than one 
occasion in order to get enough to keep himself alive. 
In the campaign of Horseshoe Bend, hear his own 
words upon the condition of himself and the army : 

"And now, seeing that every fellow must shift for 
himself, I determined that in the morning I would 
come up missing; so I took my mess (gun and equip- 
ment) and cut out to go ahead of the army. We 
knowed that nothing more could happen to us if we 
went than if we staid, for it looked like it was to be 
starvation any way; we therefore determined to go on 
the old saying, ' root hog or die/ 

"We passed two camps at which our men who 
had gone on before us had killed Indians. At one 
they had killed nine, at the other three. About day- 
light we came to a small river, which I thought was the 
Scamby; but we continued on for three days, killing 
little or nothing to eat, till at last we all began to 
get ready to give up the ghost and lie down and die; 
for we had no prospect of provision, and we knew we 
couldn't go much further without it. 

"We came to a large prairie, that was about six 
miles across it, and in this I saw a trail which I knew 
was made by bear, deer and turkeys. We went on 
through it until we came to a large creek, and the low 
grounds were all set over with wild rye, looking as green 
as a wheat field. We here made a halt, unsaddled 
our horses, and turned them loose to graze. 



DAVY CROCKETT 145 

"One of my companions, a Mr. Vanzant, and my- 
self, then went up the low grounds to hunt. We had 
gone some distance, finding nothing, when at last 
I found a squirrel, which I shot, but he had got into a 
hole in a tree. The game was small, but necessity is 
not very particular, so I thought I must have him, 
and I climbed that tree thirty feet high, without a 
limb, and pulled him out of his hole. I shouldn't relate 
such small matters, only to show to what lengths a 
hungry man will go to get something to eat. 

"I soon killed two other squirrels and fired at a 
large hawk. At this a gang of turkeys rose from the 
canebrake and flew across the creek to where my 
friend was, who had just before crossed it. He soon 
fired on a large gobbler and I heard it fall. By this 
time my gun was loaded again, and I saw one sitting on 
my side of the creek, so I blazed away and brought 
him down, and a fine turkey he was. 

"I now began to think we had struck a breeze of 
luck, and almost forgot our past sufferings in the prospect 
of once more having something to eat. I raised a 
shout and my comrade came to me, and we went on to 
the camp with the game we had killed. '' 

Such was the way that the frontier soldier was 
forced to live. Nowadays he grumbles at the beef, at 
the hard-tack, at everything. Then men lived on the 
country, were cheerful, said nothing, and fought like 
Trojans. Having nothing, they expected nothing, 
and with a grim humor that is inspiring, campaigned 
and marched like true heroes. When General Jackson 
met the Indians, at what is called Hickory Ground, and 



146 FAMOtfS SCOUTS 

concluded a treaty of peace \\ath them, Crockett and 
all the rest returned to their log cabins. It had been 
a hard, a gruelling, but a successful campaign. 

Soon after his return Crockett's young wife, worn 
out by hard work, worry, and exposure during his 
absence at the front, died. But the genial frontiers- 
man's grief was short. He soon married again and 
moved still further into the wilderness, where wild game 
was abundant, and bears were very numerous. In one 
winter this stout-bodied man of the woods killed one 
hundred and five bears, which surpasses anything on 
record in the annals of American hunters of Brother 
Bruin. Here is a description of one of his fights with 
the monarch of the canebrakes, told in his own words: 

"I went on about three miles, when I came to a 
good big creek, which I waded. It was very cold 
and the creek was about knee deep; but I felt no great 
inconvenience from it just then, as I was wet all over 
with perspiration from running, and I felt hot enough. 
After I got over this creek and out of the cane, which 
was very thick on all our creeks, I listened for my dogs. 
I found they had either treed or brought the bear to a 
stop, as they continued barking in the same place. 

^^I pushed on, as near in the direction of the noise 
as I could, till I found that the hill was too steep for 
me to climb, and so I backed and went down the creek 
some distance, till I came to a hollow, and then took 
up that, till I came to a place where I could climb up 
the hill. It was mighty dark, and was difficult to see 
my way, or anything else. When I got up the hill I 
found I had passed the dogs, and so I turned and went 



DAVY CROCKETT 147 

to them. I found when I got there they had treed a 
bear in a large, forked poplar, and Bruin was sitting in 
the fork. 

" I could see the lump [on his back], but not plain 
enough to shoot with any certainty, as there was no 
moonlight; and so I set in to hunting for some dry 
brush to make me a light, but I could find none, though 
I could find that the ground was torn mightily to pieces 
by the cracks. 

"At last I thought I could shoot by guess, and kill 
him; so I pointed as near the lump as I could and fired 
away. But the bear didn't come; he only dumb up 
higher, and got out on a limb, which helped me to see 
him better. I now loaded up again and fired, but this 
time he didn't move at all. 

"I conmienced loading for a third time, but the 
first thing I knowed, the bear was down among my 
dogs, and they were fighting all around me. I had 
my big butcher [knife] in my belt, and I had a pair 
of dressed buckskin breeches on. So I took out my 
knife and stood determined if he should get hold of 
me to defend myself in the best way I could. 

"I stood there for some time and could now and 
then see a white dog I had, but the rest of them, and 
the bear, which were dark colored, I couldn't see at all, 
it was so miserable dark. 

"They still fought around me, and sometimes within 
three feet of me, but at last the bear got down into 
one of the cracks that the earthquakes had made in the 
ground, about four feet deep, and I could hear the 
biting end of him, by the hollering of the dogs. So I 



148 FAIVIOUS SCOUTS 

took my gun and pushed the muzzle of it about until 
I thought I had it against the main part of his body, 
and fired; but it happened to be only the fleshy part 
of his foreleg. With this he jumped out of the crack, 
and he a^nd the dogs had another hard fight around me, 
as before. At last, however, they forced him back 
into the crack again, as he was when I had shot. 

"I had laid down my gun in the dark, and now I 
began to hunt for it; and while hunting I got hold of a 
pole, and I concluded that I would punch him awhile 
with that. I did so, and when I would punch him, 
the dogs would in on him, when he would bite them 
badly, and they would jump out again. 

" I concluded, as he would take punching so patiently, 
it might be that he would lie still enough for me to get 
down in the crack, and feel slowly along till I could 
find the right place to give him a dig with my butcher. 
So I got down, and my dogs got in before him and kept 
his head towards them, till I got along easily up to him, 
and placing my hand on his rump, felt for his shoulder, 
just behind which I intended to stick him. I made a 
lunge with my long knife, and fortunately stuck him 
right through the heart, at which he just sunk down, 
and I crawled out in a hurry. In a little time my dogs 
all come [came] out, too, and seemed satisfied, which 
was a way they always had of telling me that they 
had finished him." 

This was one of hundreds of battles, and so success- 
ful was rough old Davy in killing off the midnight 
marauders of the hog-pens, sheep-folds and melon 
patches of the neighboring pioneers, that he was soon 



DAVY CROCKETT 149 

the most welcome guest at every fireside. And he 
thoroughly enjoyed his life in the wild woodland. 

When Crockett went to Washington shortly after- 
wards, as a Congressman, his rough backwoods manner, 
quaint humor and generous frame won him many 
friends and admirers in the capitol. Soon after his 
arrival, he was invited to the White House to dine 
with President Adams, who was a man of the highest 
culture. Of this affair he says in his diary : 

'^I was wild from the backwoods and didn't know 
nothing about eating dinner with the big folks of our 
country. And how should I, having been a hunter 
all my life? I had eat most of my dinners on a log in 
the woods, and sometimes no dinner at all. I knew 
whether I ate dinner with the President, or not, was a 
matter of no importance, for my constituents were not 
to be benefited by it. I did not go to court the Presi- 
dent, for I was opposed to him in principle, and had no 
favors to ask at his hands. I was afraid, however, 
that I should be awkward, as I was so entirely a stranger 
to fashion; and in going along I resolved to observe 
the conduct of my friend Mr. Verplank, and to do as he 
did. And I know that I did behave myself right well." 

But did he behave himself well? Some joker 
wrote the following laughable account of this dinner 
party, which was widely circulated among the news- 
papers, and caused many a smile. Crockett is sup- 
posed to be giving his own version of the affair: 

''The first thing I did after I got to Washington 
was to go to the President's. I stepped into the Presi- 
dent's house. Thinks L who's afeard. If I didn't, 



150 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

I wish I may be shot. Says I, 'Mr. Adams, I am Mr. 
Crockett, from Tennessee.^ 'So/ says he, 'How d'ye 
do, Mr. Crockett?' And he shook me by the hand, 
although I knowed he went the whole hog for Jackson. 
If he didn't, I wish I may be shot. 

"Not only that, but he sent me a printed ticket to 
dine with him. I've got it in my pocket yet. I went 
to dinner, and I walked all around the long table, 
looking for something that I liked. At last I took my 
seat beside a fat goose, and I helped myself to as much 
of it as I wanted. But I hadn't took three bites, when 
I looked away up the table at a man they call Task 
(a foreign attache to an embassy, or legation). He 
was talking French to a woman on t'other side of the 
table. He dodged his head and she dodged hers, and 
then they got to drinking wine across the table. 

" But when I looked back again my plate was gone, — 
goose and all. So I j'ist cast my eyes down to t'other 
end of the table and, sure enough, I seed a black man 
walking off with my plate. I says, 'Hello, Mister, 
bring back my plate!' He fetched it back in a hurry. 
And when he set it down before me, how do you think 
it was? Licked as clean as my hand. If it wasn't, I 
wish I may be shot! 

"Says he, 'What will you have, sir?' And says I, 
' You may well say that, after stealing my goose.' And 
he began to laugh. Then says I, 'Mister, laugh if you 
please; but I don't half like sich tricks upon travellers.' 
I then filled my plate with bacon and greens. And 
whenever I looked up or down the table, I held on to 
my plate with my left hand. 



DAVY CROCKETT 151 

"When we were all done eating, they cleared every- 
thing off the table, and took away the tablecloth. 
And what do you think? There was another cloth 
under it. If there wasn't, I wish I may be shot! Then 
I saw a man coming along carrying a great glass thing, 
with a glass handle below, something like a candle-stick. 
It was stuck full of little glass cups, with something 
in them that looked good to eat. Says I, 'Mister, 
bring that thing here.' Thinks I, let's taste them 
first. They were mighty sweet and good, so I took 
six of them. If I didn't, I wish I may be shot." 

In spite of the fun thus poked at him, Crockett 
was honest, honorable, and served his constituents 
well. It is he who coined the famous motto, which he 
endeavored to live up to, to the best of his ability, 
''Be sure you're right, then go ahead J' 

In fact, for the sake of his political future, he served 
this only too well for, shortly disagreeing with self- 
willed old Andrew Jackson, who had been elected 
President of the Republic, and was a popular idol, his 
antagonism to the wish of the chief executive lost him 
many votes in his own State. Said the stout old 
Indian fighter and bear hunter, " I refuse to wear a collar 
around my neck labelled, ' My Dog — Andrew Jackson,' " 
and on many points he thwarted the iron will of Old 
Hickory. 

For a time Crockett's popularity was great. He 
was feasted and wined in Philadelphia, Louisville, Boston 
and New York, where he delivered many quaintly 
humorous, but sensible, addresses. In Philadelphia 
his admirers presented him with a splendid modern 



152 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

rifle and hunting horn, which the mighty hunter soon 
put in the place of trusty "Old Betsy.'' This turned 
the once simple bear hunter's head. He even aspired 
for the Presidency, although ignorant of book learning, 
wholly destitute of the refinements which he knew 
that the chief of the nation should possess, and not 
even able to speak correct grammar. He believed him- 
self thoroughly able to fill the Presidential chair, for 
popular applause had turned his head. 

But how fickle is Dame Fortune! He ran again 
for Congress, only to find that his popularity, though 
increasing abroad, had lessened at home. Dressing 
himself in hunting clothes, with his rifle over his shoulder, 
he attended all of the conventions and threw himself 
heart and soul into the canvass for election, which was 
a red hot one. His speeches were the best and most 
interesting that he had ever delivered, but all of his 
jokes, philosophy, reasoning and eloquence availed him 
nothing, for he was defeated by a majority of two 
hundred and thirty votes and, smarting from the sting 
of defeat, retired to his cabin, a broken-hearted and 
crestfallen man. 

How often we ourselves have seen this in our own 
lives. At school, I have seen the boy defeated for 
the captaincy of the football eleven sulk for a month. 
I have seen the older youth who failed to get a marshal- 
ship in the class day elections, at college, leave the 
university with such bitterness in his heart that it took 
a full year or more for the feeling to wear off. I have 
seen defeated Congressmen most dispirited in their 
defeat, — and it has been my ill fortune to see many 



DAVY CROCKETT 153 

a statesman who has aspired to higher position than 
that of Representative, so crestfallen by disappointed 
ambition that his days were shortened. This is, and 
always will be, an every-day occurrence, and one which 
the world of struggling men will always know. Is it 
a wonder, then, that this extraordinary backwoodsman, 
elevated from abject poverty to a position of prominence 
in tlie councils of the nation, should be chagrined, 
mortified, crestfallen by the vote of disapproval of his 
course of action, when shortly before the papers had 
been full of his name, and thousands had crowded to 
hear the words of the quaint, sensible, old pioneer? 

Not willing to remain longer in his home district, 
Crockett turned his eyes towards Texas, which then 
was warring with Mexico for its independence, and 
offered a life of excitement for the stout-hearted and 
clean-shooting man. 

"As my country no longer requires my services, I 
have made up my mind to go to Texas," he has written. 
''My life has been one of danger, toil and privation. 
But these difficulties I had to encounter at a time when 
I considered it nothing more than right good sport to 
surmount them; but now I start anew upon my own 
hook, and God only grant that it may be strong enough 
to support the weight that may be hung upon it. I 
have a new row to hoe, a long and a rough one, but come 
what will, I'll go ahead.'^ 

We now come to the last incident in the life of this 
remarkable man; an incident as dramatic as that of 
the hero of any melodrama. It is a story which will 
live forever, for of the men who defended the Alamo, 



154 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

not one lived to tell of the battle. As is well carved 
upon the monument which marks the scene of this 
famous fight, 

" Thermopylae had its messenger of defeat, 
The Alamo had none." 

When Crockett, heart-sick and weary, left his wife 
and children — for he had several — to cross over the 
Mississippi and enter the Lone Star State, the political 
condition there was as follows: 

A Republican Government was in vogue in Mexico, 
for in 1821 this former dependency had revolted from 
Spain and, after a certain Iturbide had assumed the 
government, with the title of Emperor, he had been 
deposed in favor of a Republic. Of this Republic, 
Texas, with the province of Coahuila, became one of 
the northeastern states. Americans had flocked into 
this rich country, and at the time of Davy Crockett's 
emigration there were fully twenty thousand settlers 
of Anglo-Saxon descent in the then, and yet, fertile 
soil of what is called the Lone Star State. They were 
honest, law-abiding citizens, for the most part, good 
shots and impatient of discipline or restraint. 

In 1833 the Presidential office was seized by a Mexican 
who called himself ^'The Napoleon of the West.'' His 
real name was Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, but 
unlike the real Napoleon, he was as blood-thirsty and 
tyrannous as Black Beard, the Buccaneer. The heavy 
hand of this black-haired dictator was soon laid upon 
Texas, and it was made law that the Americans must 
give up their arms, — their only defense against Indians, 



DAVY CROCKETT 155 

and means of killing game. The Mexican government 
prohibited slavery in Texas, the stout pioneers refused 
to yield up their black retainers, and, preferring war 
to acquiescence in the demands of these whom they 
called "Greasers," settled down to actual hostilities. 
A Declaration of Independence was signed March 2d, 
1836. The Americans first assumed the offensive and 
drove the Mexican soldiers from the city of San Antonio 
de Bexar. 

Near this town was the Mission of San Antonio de 
Valero, called the Mission del Alamo, which means 
the mission house of the cotton-wood tree. It had here 
been established in 1722 and was built in the form of 
a parallelogram, fifty by one hundred and fifty yards. 
It had " walls of eighteen or twenty feet in height, and 
no less than four or five feet in thickness. Within its 
limits was a large stone church. On the east and west 
parallel walls were constructed on the inside, fifteen 
feet from the outer walls. Beams were laid from one 
to the other, a few feet from the top, and the space 
filled by beaten earth. Doors opened through the 
inner wall to the space between the two, which was 
divided into a number of small rooms for the accom- 
modation of the garrison. Fourteen small pieces of 
artillery were mounted upon the walls, including three 
in the chancel of the church. There was an excellent 
water supply." 

How many Americans were here? At first one 
hundred and forty men, but to this force, early in 1836, 
came the reinforcement of Davy Crockett with twelve 
pioneers from Tennessee, clad in tanned hunting shirts, 



156 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

with coonskin caps, long bowie knives and flintlock 
rifles. Lieutenant-colonel William Barrett Travis was 
in command, and he was assisted by Colonel James 
Bowie of Georgia, — from whom the long, keen fighting- 
knives took their name. Travis was only twenty- 
eight years of age, was a lawyer, tall, lean and red- 
headed. He was fuH of grit and courage. 

Enraged by the attack of the Americans, Santa 
Anna marched to revenge the defeat of General Cos, 
who had commanded the Mexican troops. "I will 
wreak a desperate vengeance upon the Texans,'' said he. 
^'No one who withstands me shall live. I shall sow 
the land with salt, so that no green thing shall grow 
there.'' 

On the 25th of February, 1836, the Alamo was 
attacked by an advance division of Santa Anna's army 
consisting of sixteen hundred men. They were driven 
off with ease, but Santa Anna was coming up with 
his main force, and soon five thousand yellow-skinned, 
black-eyed soldiers halted before the fort. It was 
enough to make any leader quail, but Colonel Travis 
was a veritable game cock. He had been ordered by 
General Houston to fall back upon the main American 
army in the rear, but a feeling of reckless daring was 
stronger in him than the feeling of military subordina- 
tion. He would not move, and now it was too late. 

From February 25th to March 2d the Mexicans threw 
up intrenchments around the Alamo and, erecting 
batteries, began to bombard the place. The garrison 
was told to surrender and Santa Anna displayed a red 
ensign, signifying that no quarter would be given. The 



DAVY CROCKETT 157 

flag of Texas was defiantly flaunted in his face, and 
Travis dispatched a letter addressed to the people 
of Texas and the Americans in the world, praying for 
assistance. It was carried safely through the Mexican 
lines by a scout, and here is what those who saw it read: 

"To THE People of Texas and all 
Americans in the World. 

" Commandacy of the Alamo. 
" FelloiD Citizens and Compatriots: 

" I am beseiged by a thousand or more of the Mexi- 
cans under Santa Anna. I have sustained a continual 
bombardment for twenty-four hours and have not lost 
a man. The enemy have demanded a surrender at 
discretion; otherwise the garrison is to be put to the 
sword if the place is taken. I have answered the 
summons with a cannon shot and our flag still waves 
proudly from the walls. / shall never surrender or 
retreat. Then, I call upon you, in the name of liberty, 
of patriotism, and of everything dear to the American 
character, to come to our aid with all dispatch. The 
enemy are receiving reinforcements daily and will no 
doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five 
days. Though this call may be neglected, I am de- 
termined to sustain myself as long as possible and die 
like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own 
honor and that of his country. Victory or death! 

"W. Barrett Travis, 
" LievMnant-colonel Commanding. 

**"P.S. The Lord is on our side. When the army 
appeared in sight we had not three bushels of corn. 



158 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

We have since found in deserted houses eighty or ninety 
bushels and got into the walls twenty or thirty beeves,'' 

Oh, unfortunate garrison! Of all of those who 
read this message, only thirty-two heroic plainsmen 
reached them, although three hundred men started 
for the Alamo from a point two hundred miles to the 
southeast. Those who dashed through the Mexican 
lines on horseback, cut their way into the old Mission 
at three in the morning of March 1st, led by Captain 
J. W. Smith. The three hundred never arrived, for 
their ammunition wagons broke down, their provisions 
gave out, and they could not get the artillery through 
the river quicksands. But now there were one hundred 
and eighty against the five thousand. Let us see how 
they fought! 

On the 4th of March a Mexican council of war was 
held, and it was determined to carry the Mission of 
Alamo by assault on the 6th of March, as soon as day 
should break. Santa Anna smiled with joy. He was 
like a wild beast, for the long resistance had stung his 
hot-headed, Spanish-American pride. 

Word was brought to Colonel Travis of the expected 
attack. He assembled his band of courageous lion 
hearts within the little court of the Alamo, now torn 
with shot and shell, but once the peaceful walk of 
black-capped Franciscan friars. 

Solemnly tracing a long line with the point of his 
sword, he said: 

"Men, unless reinforcements reach us from General 
Houston's army before tomorrow morning, the Alamo 



DAVY CROCKETT 159 

will be assaulted by this overwhelming force. There 
are three courses to pursue. First: we can surrender 
on the best terms that can be made and take our chances 
for life, which are minute. Second: we can attempt 
to cut our way out and retreat, when some of us will 
get through. Third: we can remain here and die like 
men, for our country. As for myself, this last shall 
be my own course. All who wish to die with me can 
cross the line which I have drawn with my sword." 

As he ceased speaking, every man crossed the line. 
Even the ill Colonel Bowie, who was prostrate upon 
his cot, called loudly for the fighters to pick him up 
and carry him across the line, which was done im- 
mediately. 

Before daylight next morn the Mexican bugler 
shrilled in the early murk. As the Texans peered over 
the thick walls of the Spanish Mission, they saw the 
entire Mexican army forming in two lines for the assault. 
Cavalry was upon the flanks, and the officers waved 
their swords wildly over their heads. 

Crash! Crash! 

The batteries now opened, and grape, cannister and 
solid shot ploughed furrows into the stout adobe bar- 
ricades. 

Crash! Crash! Crash! 

The troops opened with volleys of musketry. Away 
back in the rear, an officer in white uniform upon a 
careering mustang, galloped about, giving orders, en- 
couraging the men, and swearing lustily in Spanish. 
It was Santa Anna, the commander-in-chief. 

Crash! Ta-ra-ta-ta! 



160 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

As the last volley roared its evil welcome, the bugles 
blew the advance. With a wild, beast-like yell the 
Mexican troops rushed at the battered walls of the 
old Mission. The sputtering fire from the rifles of 
the Americans soon turned into a ringing volley. Deep 
gaps appeared in the lines of Santa Anna's followers. 
They recoiled. They broke. They ran to a safe posi- 
tion away from the deadly range of the guns of the 
pioneers. Scaling ladders had been rushed forward, 
and many of these lay derelict upon the yellow soil. 
The Texans cheered, for they believed that the enemy 
might not return. But the Mexicans had only stopped 
to re-form. 

Ta-ra-ta-ta! 

Again the clear wail of the bugle hurled the white- 
uniformed column against the Alamo. Again the 
close-formed ranks met a fire that was death dealing. 
The Mexicans broke. They scattered; they ran; and 
their band, on the distant prairie, played the dequelo, 
which means, no quarter. 

Three batteries, planted on a commanding hill in 
the rear of the town, were sending their shots against 
the north wall. It began to crumble beneath the 
sledge-hammer blows of the death-bringing iron, giving 
an opening to the now infuriated Mexican troops. 
Santa Anna himself saw the opening, and pointing 
to it cried to General Castrillo, "If you do not get 
into the fortress now, you are not a true soldier, Cas- 
trillo. Forward!" 

As he spoke, with a wild cheer the white uniforms 
rushed towards that ill-starred northern wall, now 



DAVY CROCKETT 161 

held by a few desperate Texans only, for many had 
fallen. Travis — brave and resolute commander — fell 
pierced with a ball through the brain. The command 
fell upon Davy Crockett, the bear hunter, now shooting 
other game far more dangerous than that in the cane- 
brakes of old Tennessee. " On men," he shouted. " Do 
not let these hounds come into the Alamo!" 

But the scaling ladders mounted the walls of the 
breach. The Texans were surrounded by fire and 
cold steel. One by one they dropped, fighting bluntly 
and desperately. Crockett ran to the old church and 
many followed him for a last stand, while the Mexicans, 
cursing and yelling, chased after them, swords drawn, 
bayonets red with blood, pistols spitting like angry cats. 
No quarter! The refrain of the band echoed over 
the roof of the old church of God, where often the Psalms 
from the soft-throated choir rang from the sacred 
chancel. Forty Mexicans fell dead before the door of 
the long room where were Davy Crockett and his men. 
Bowie lay alone in his chamber, but a brownish yellow 
face appeared at the door, a knife flashed, and the soul 
of the old frontiersman had gone above. 

Crash! Crash! The cannon battered down the 
door of the long room where Crockett remained, with 
the last remnant of the little Texan army. "Fire the 
magazine!" cried the old bear hunter to Major Evans, 
the only officer remaining. The obedient soldier ran 
to the room where the powder was stored, but was 
stricken down as he reached the door. The Mexican 
bayonets pointed at the breast of the old pioneer. With 
the butt of his musket he swept a way clear before him. 



162 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

Fully a dozen lay piled up around this stout-hearted 
remnant of the Texan army, in his last death grapple. 
Then, crack! a shot rang out, and Davy Crockett 
fell headlong upon his face. It was all over. 

Santa Anna smoked a cigarette and chatted pleas- 
antly with his yellow-faced officers. It had been a 
good hour's work. 

"Put them in a big pile,'' said he. "We'll burn 
them, as did the Greeks of old." 

The hundred and eighty-two dead Texan- Americans 
were gathered together and arranged in a huge pyramid; 
first a layer of wood, then a layer of dead men, until 
a huge pyre was erected. Now four soldiers walked 
around the mass, each carrying a can of camphine, 
which was poured upon both men and wooden faggots. 
A match was applied, and the defenders of the Alamo 
were burned to dust. So ended the life of Davy 
Crockett: bear hunter, pioneer, Congressman, and de- 
fender of Texan liberty. 

The little hawk hangs aloft, in the air; 
The shy coyote trots here and there; 
His gallant spirit lingers ihere^ 
In TexaSy 

Down by the Rio Grande, 



GENERAL SAM HOUSTON: THE 
SAVIOR OF TEXAS 

CRISES make men of mark. Never is there a 
war, or a great political upheaval, but some 
one individual comes forward to lead a success- 
ful charge, or preach an effective doctrine, which marks 
him with prominence. The world is full of heroes. 
It is the stirring event which brings out the manhood 
in the man. You, yourself, have heroic qualities. 
Perhaps the opportunity will come to you to distin- 
guish yourself. Live your life, try to do the right, 
and, if opportunity comes, you may be written of by 
some future historian, even as I am chronicling the life 
of one of the most unusual characters in all history, 
General Sam Houston: the Savior of Texas. 

Half soldier, half demigod: such was Sam Houston; 
a man brought up in strange surroundings, thrown 
among strange people, strange events, — and savage 
companions. He lived among Indians because he 
preferred them, yet represented the whites of the great 
State of Texas in the United States Senate. He mar- 
ried a white woman, after a previous marriage with 
an Indian, yet deserted his second wife, and returned 
to his nomadic existence with the Cherokees in Ar- 
kansas. He studied law, was district attorney, and 
later represented the whites as their Indian agent 
among the red men. Thus back and forth he changed 

163 



164 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

his allegiance to the two races, yet in the end fought 
to free the vast territory of Texas from the yoke of 
Mexican dictation, — and was successful. Houston was 
a veritable floating bubble upon the churning whirl- 
pool of frontier civilization, — a chameleon of border 
liistory. 

This man of varied fortune was born in Rockbridge 
County, Virginia, 1793, — a county of mountainous 
ruggedness, which was then scarcely known and still 
less scarcely opened to civilization. He was one of 
nine children — desperately poor — as w^ere most of 
the Virginian mountaineers then and are today. Re- 
moving to Blount County, Tennessee, he alternately 
attended school, worked on his mother's farm, and 
clerked in the village store. When about fifteen, he 
ran off and joined the Cherokee Indians because he 
liked their lazy life of hunting, fishing, and living in 
the open. All boys would like to be Indians, par- 
ticularly in sunamer. 

Young and sprightly, young Sam Houston was 
adopted into the family of a lesser chief, — even mar- 
ried a squaw, and when requested to return to his 
own people, rephed, "I prefer to measure deer tracks 
to measuring tape.'' But, when he was eighteen, 
he thought rather better of his own race, — at least 
he went back to the white settlements and opened a 
country school, where the tuition was six to eight dol- 
lars a year; one-third payable in corn; one-third in 
cotton goods; and one-third in cash. When he was 
Senator someone asked him how he liked the title and 
honor of the position. "Young man," said he, to 



GENERAL SAM HOUSTON 165 

his questioner, ''I have never experienced a higher 
feehng of dignity and self satisfaction than when, 
at eighteen years of age, I was a schoolmaster in 
Tennessee." 

Soon tiring of teaching school, he was made sub- 
agent for the Cherokee Indians in 1817, and was shortly 
accused of abusing his authority, so he gave up the 
work to enlist in the frontier army under General 
Jackson, which fought the Creeks under Weather- 
ford. He served through the war with distinction, 
but because of a severe rebuke which he received from 
Calhoun — the Secretary of War — resigned from the 
service. Houston was very fond of gaudy attire and 
when summoned to appear before the secretary, ap- 
peared in the costume of a v/ild Indian of the Cherokee 
tribe. From that time on he cordially hated the great 
statesman who had only too justly reprimanded him. 

Civic honors awaited the young soldier. He was 
twice elected to Congress, but left his seat during his 
second term to be Governor of Tennessee. The bud- 
ding statesman was popular; his administration met 
with no opposition; and he apparently was very happy 
when he married a beautiful young maiden of his own 
race. But in two weeks' time he suddenly disap- 
peared—fled from the city in disguise — and again 
joined the Cherokees, by whom he was formally ad- 
mitted as a member of the tribe. He had resigned 
the governorship of the State before he mysteriously 
made off to the redskins,— which was fortunate. 

It was soon rumored that Houston, at the head 
of a band of warlike Cherokees, was to invade Texas 



166 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

and, after separating the State from the Mexican Govern- 
ment, was then going to declare himself ruler of the 
vast, arid country. So definite were these reports 
that they reached the ears of President Andrew Jack- 
son, who wrote immediately to the self-appointed 
Cherokee, asking him to refrain from any attack upon 
Texas. Fearing that, like Aaron Burr, Houston 
would endeavor to form another Republic, Jackson 
confidentially directed the secretary of the State of 
Arkansas to keep him informed of any movements 
upon the part of the wild Sam Houston which might 
tend to prove that he contemplated an outbreak. After 
a time, Old Hickory was overjoyed to hear that there 
was no such movement on foot. Sam Houston was 
appointed a confidential Indian agent to the tribes 
of the southwest, in 1832, and about this time he 
wandered into Texas, pleased with the rough and war- 
like life of the border. 

We now come to Sam Houston's part in the struggle 
of Texas for independence, a part which has made 
him a hero of border history. As has been shown in 
the essay upon Davy Crockett, when the intrepid band 
of one hundred and eighty was making that desperate 
stand in the old Mission of the Alamo, Houston, 
with a larger army of Texan patriots was far in the 
rear, prepared to contest still further the progress of 
the victorious army of that "Napoleon of the West," 
Santa Anna, the despotic ruler of the Mexican 
Republic. 

When news of the slaughter of Colonel Travis, 
Colonel Bowie, Davy Crockett, and the other border 



GENERAL SAM HOUSTON 167 

fighters was brought to the soldiers under Sam Hous- 
ton — for he had been appointed leader of the Texan 
army — the fierce, vindictive cry went up : " Let 
us avenge the death of our comrades in arms, and let 
our battle cry be, 'Remember the Alamo!' No quarter 
to Santa Anna's murderers!'' 

The Texans now had a provisional government. 
General Austin was a commissioner to the United 
States to secure loans of money to maintain the 
State, Henry Smith had been elected governor, and 
Houston was commander-in-chief of the army. He 
had a copy of Caesar's Commentaries on the Gallic 
War, in English, with him, and that he studied daily. 
It was all he ever read upon the art of war. 

After the capture of the Alamo, Santa Anna did 
not march directly upon Houston's forces, then in the 
vicinity of Gongales on the Guadalupe River, but 
sent a strong force under General Urrea to cut to pieces 
an advance detachment of Texan rangers under Colonel 
Fannin, stationed at Goliad, which you will find on the 
San Antonio River, about fifty miles from the Gulf 
of Mexico. Fannin was a brave young officer who 
was a soldier of fortune and had proffered his services 
to the Texans for the ''fun there was in it." He had 
about five hundred troops, all Americans, and all 
volunteers. 

When Fannin was awaiting the advance of the 
Mexicans, a decree of Santa Anna's was handed him. 
It read: 

"Any foreigner (that is American) captured under 
arms within the boundaries of the Mexican Republic, 



168 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

or bearing arms against the Mexican Government, 
shall suffer instant death.'' 

He also received an order from Houston, ordering 
him to retreat, an order to which he paid no attention. 

After several advance parties sent out by Fannin 
had been captured by the superior numbers of the 
Mexicans, he began to retreat to Victoria, on the Guada- 
lupe River, and after a march of six or eight miles 
he halted to graze the oxen and refresh the troops. 
They were soon attacked by the Mexicans. The bat- 
tle raged all day. At night neither side had been able 
to win a victory. 

But renewed reinforcements and artillery reached 
the Mexicans during the night. In the morning the 
Americans fought well for a time, and then put up a 
white flag, while Colonel Fannin — though badly crip- 
pled by wounds — went out and made excellent terms, 
by which the Texans were to be received and treated 
as prisoners of war. That is, they were to be well 
looked after until exchanged. 

Not long afterwards, as the prisoners were discuss- 
ing their departure to the United States, and some 
even were playing "Home Sweet Home'' upon various 
musical instruments which they had with them, a 
courier arrived from Santa Anna with a message for 
General Urrea. The yellow-faced soldier read it, 
scowled, and was seen to beat furiously upon the ground 
with the end of his sabre. 

At dawn of the day following — it was Palm Sun- 
day — the Texans were formed in several divisions, 
and were marched away in different directions. Sud- 



GENERAL SAM HOUSTON 169 

denly their guards fired upon the detachments, with- 
out warning. The brave soldiers fell on every side, 
but some escaped and got safely ofT. Thus Santa 
Anna — the man who wished to pose as a Napoleon — 
kept to the terms of his proclamation. It was a cruel 
and dastardly deed, for it was against the terms of 
the surrender and every tenent of decency. Is it a 
wonder that the blood boiled in the veins of the few 
troops who now clustered around rough, old Sam 
Houston? 

Texas was practically crushed. Fugitives from 
every quarter crowded each other in a desperate at- 
tempt to reach the American territory in the north- 
east. Houston himself retreated, for he hoped to get 
Santa Anna to divide his forces, come after him with 
an army of his own size, and then fight. Could he but 
accomplish this, he knew that he could crush the most 
hated man upon the frontier. 

Having taken San Antonio, the self-styled Napoleon, 
who was really a Murat, considered Texas subdued, 
and determined to return to the capitol, leaving a sub- 
ordinate officer to finish the work. But tempted 
onward by the taunting presence of Sam Houston's 
army, he followed it across the Colorado River, the 
Brozas, and the flat country which leads up to the 
San Jacinto, flowing into the Bay of Galveston. He 
had done just what crafty Sam Houston had wished. 
He had advanced with only about twelve hundred 
men. The Texans could muster about seven hundred 
and fifty. 

As Houston had retreated, instead of fighting, his 



170 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

men lost heart, and many of them called him "Coward," 
"Quitter," "Backslider" and "Traitor." But this 
did not worry the cool-headed general, whose only 
mark of office was a battered scabboard, attached to 
a deer thong around his waist. Otherwise he wore a 
large-brimmed, white felt hat; a pair of yellow panta- 
loons, tucked into a pair of dilapidated boots; an old 
black coat; a black vest, and a cotton shirt. "I hold 
no councils of war," said the old man to the govern- 
ment in the rear. "If I err in military matters, the 
blame is mine. I think that my plans are good." 
Meanwhile, he was reinforced by a small body of rangers 
and two cannon — six-pounders called the " Twin 
Sisters" — sent to the army by citizens of Cincinnati, 
Ohio. 

The disgruntled Texans had long waited for the 
chance to strike the enemy. Finally it came and was 
greeted with wild cheers of enthusiastic patriotism. 
Learning that Santa Anna was near Buffalo Bayou, 
where once had stood a thriving town of Harrisburg 
— now burned and sacked by the Mexicans — on the 
18th of April, 1836, Houston gave the word to "Ad- 
vance and knock the pie out of the Greasers." A cele- 
brated scout called Deaf Smith had brought in a whole 
bag full of captured dispatches, showing just where 
Santa Anna was to be next day. Old Sam Houston 
smiled like the famous Cheshire cat. "By George, 
IVe got him," said he, slapping the likewise smiling 
Smith on the shoulder. "Remember the Alamo, 
will we? Yes, I rather think that in a few days well 
dine on fried Mexican." 



GENERAL SAM HOUSTON 171 

In fact, Santa Anna — puffed with egotism, pride, 
and self-satisfaction — had pushed into the enemy's 
country with too small a force. It was the rainy sea- 
son and the baggage wagons and artillery of the Ameri- 
cans stuck frightfully in the mire. Old Sam Houston, 
himself, put his shoulder to many a grumbling wheel, 
and with his tremendous strength shoved it out of 
the mud. "Come, men, we must get on!" he would 
say. " The opportunity for which I have been waiting 
for the past six months has finally arrived. We must 
catch this Mexican fox before he has been reinforced 
and we must remember the massacre of Colonel Fan- 
nin's men and those patriots in the Alamo. Push! 
Shove! We must get on!" So tugging, straining, 
pulling, the little army reached Buffalo Bayou — op- 
posite the ruins of Harrisburg — on the 18th of April, 
1836. But how to get across at the ''Greasers"? 

Deaf Smith and the other scouts were busy and, 
after scouting around for some time, a leaky boat 
and raft were discovered. On these two magnificent 
pontoons, the gallant defenders of Texan liberty were 
ferried over to the opposite bank, while the cavalry 
horses swam the bayou. Not a moment was lost. 
Houston ordered them to press on, and pushed them 
twelve miles that night, finally camping at one o'clock 
in the early morning. Scouts, sent out in advance, 
told the now eager soldiers that the hated Mexicans 
were near a place where the San Jacinto River runs 
into Buffalo Bayou. This information was greeted 
with a wild Texan yell. 

Houston had his men stirring before morning 



172 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

broke, and they pushed on for seven miles before they 
halted to eat. During breakfast a scout rode in with 
the words, "The whole outfit is near the place where 
the bayou and San Jacinto join. Step lively, boys, 
and we'll have a little fracas afore evenin'." With- 
out cheering, but with grins of satisfaction, the soldiers 
pressed on to a ferry across San Jacinto Bay, not far 
from where the bayou and river join. A flat boat was 
here taken, filled with flour for Santa Anna's men, 
but none of these were to be seen except a few badly 
frightened Mexicans on the barge of provisions. The 
Americans were ordered to march up the Buffalo Bayou, 
about three quarters of a mile, were there posted in 
some woods, and told to cook a meal. The captured 
flour came in very opportunely as the soldiers were 
both tired and hungry. 

Meanwhile where was the Napoleon, or rather, 
Butcher of the West? 

With some twelve hundred soldiers, veterans of the 
sack of the Alamo, and pillagers of many a Texan 
village and rancho, the Mexican man of war was at 
New Washington, several miles away. Scouts there 
brought him news of the near approach of the Ameri- 
cans and, at first, his men fell into a panic. But, 
as no signs were seen of the enemy, the leader of the 
little army restored order, saying, "We can soon defeat 
these braggarts even as we have defeated Travis and 
Fannin. March on, men, with me you are invincible!'' 
So, whipping his lines into good order, he advanced 
towards the San Jacinto River, with his artillery, con- 
sisting of one nine pounder, drawn by a couple of fat 
mules. 



GENERAL SAM HOUSTON 173 

Sam Houston — with the keen eye of a man who 
had studied CjBsar's Commentaries to some advantage 
— had stationed his men in an advantageous position. 
A level stretch of prairie was in front of the camp, 
while on the left were wild marshes, intervening be- 
tween them and a curving arm of the San Jacinto 
River. To the rear was Buffalo Bayou, deep and 
impassable, and eight miles away was Vince's Creek, 
where the road up which they had come crossed a 
stout bridge. The Mexicans had to fight them in 
front, and if they turned to run, the marsh to their 
right would make them fly in only one direction. 

As the Mexicans advanced, they seemed to regain 
their courage, and opened upon the "Twin Sisters^' 
with the nine pounder. The Texan Cavalry, conr 
sisting of about sixty horsemen, had a hand-to-hand 
skirmish with the Mexican horse, to the right of Hous- 
ton's position. Both sides withdrew, after a small 
loss, and neither advanced the infantry. "Why don't 
you clean 'em up, general?" Houston was asked. 

"Because I want all the Greasers in the country 
to get here, so's I can drub 'em tomorrow. I don't 
hanker after makin' two bites at one cherry," replied 
the old fellow. And he was right. 

Night fell and the Americans intrenched. The 
Mexicans also threw up a flimsy barricade of pack 
saddles, bags, and boxes on their front, about five 
feet high. In the centre was placed the nine pounder, 
while several hundred lean horsemen, on still leaner 
horses, were placed on the right flank. Next morning 
five hundred additional troops, under the celebrated 



174 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

General Cos, marched up the road from Vince's Bridge 
and joined the now confident Santa Anna. Houston's 
men saw them, but were not alarmed. "Let 'em all 
come in, we'll lick the whole outfit/' they cried as 
Houston, wishing to calm their fears, told them 
that this was part of the army in front trickily march- 
ing about to give the impression that it was an addi- 
tional force. "Lead on, general," they cried, "re- 
member the Alamo!" 

But crafty "Old Sam" was going to take no chances 
with the much hated Santa Anna and, before the 
battle, played one more card, before he showed his 
full hand. Calling Deaf Smith — the scout — to him, 
he told him to take two sharp axes and another man, 
and to ride to Vince's Bridge and cut it down, so that, 
unable to retreat, his men would either have to fight 
or perish. The Greeks had done this centuries before, 
and it was not a novel experiment. Sam Houston 
had learned Latin, not Greek, but he had apparently 
learned how to fight desperately, in spite of this. 

A council of war had been held in the American 
camp, where the senior officers had said, "We have 
undrilled bevies. Santa Anna has veteran troops. 
It will be absurd to make an advance. We have a 
good position. Let us wait for him to attack us." 
But the younger officers thought differently, for is it 
not "An old man for counsel, a young man for war"? 
Houston did no talking. He had made up his mind 
and, at two o'clock on the twenty-first, quietly moved 
among his men, saying: "It is now time to attack. 
Don't waste a shot, and let your battle cry not only 



GENERAL SAM HOUSTON 175 

be, 'Remember the Alamo/ but also ' Remember Goliad! 
Remember La Bahia!' " 

By half-past three the rough-looking Texans were 
drawn up on the flat prairie, beyond their defenses, 
and not a Mexican took note of it. Overcome by self- 
confidence and vanity, Santa Anna was asleep; many 
of his officers were taking a nap; the company's cooks 
were preparing dishes of hot-flavored food; while the 
privates were playing cards and dominos. No sentries 
were apparently stationed in front of the drowsy camp, 
and even the cavalrymen were absent, — watering 
their horses in the Lake Anna Maria Fransisco, which 
lay behind their camp. At four all seemed to be ready. 
Houston told the drum and fife to strike up a stirring 
air, "Will You Come to the Bower?" and riding behind 
the thin line, said, "Advance! Guns atrail and hold 
your fire until you get within ten yards!'' As he ceased, 
the Texans started for the Mexican camp at a sharp walk. 

Some wooded islands were between the armies, 
hiding the Americans from the drowsy eyes of Santa 
Anna's cut-throats, and the Texan rangers did not 
break into a run until these were past. Then, with 
an ear-splitting yelp, quite similar to that used by 
the Confederates in the War of the Rebellion, they 
rushed upon the camp of their hated enemies. As they 
started into this mad charge. Deaf Smith — the scout 
— raced madly in their rear, calling out in shrill and 
ominous tones, " You must fight for your lives! Vince's 
Bridge has been cut away! There can be no retreat!" 
"All right," cried several Texans. "We don't need 
any bridge. We aren't coming back at all!" 



176 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

The Mexicans were taken absolutely by surprise. 
They had no time to form companies, for the advance 
was too swift. Some, seizing their guns, fired 
recklessly at the swarming mass of Americans but, 
in their terror, they aimed too high, the volleys passing 
over the heads of the rangers. One bullet, however, 
struck excited Sam Houston, as he followed his men 
on a broncho, and caused a painful wound in his ankle. 
But he kept on, while the "Twin Sisters" belched out 
two shots which knocked a hole in the half-made bar- 
ricade. In a few moments the Americans had leaped 
it, and were firing point-blank at the half-terrorized 
Mexicans. 

Now was a scene of carnage. As the hated yellow- 
skinned followers of the rapacious Santa Anna fell 
in long wind-rows — like hay in the hay field — the 
Americans, disdaining to again load, made after them 
with their long knives and pistols. Shouts and fierce 
cries went up on all sides: "Remember the Alamo! 
Remember Goliad! Remember Colonel Fannin!'' The 
single cannon was soon taken, before it could be 
loaded. The American horse soon cut the Mexican 
cavalry to pieces, and what was left galloped off in 
the direction of Vince's Bridge. Many of the Mexican 
soldiers dashed madly into the sedge and marshes, 
where they were shot down like rabbits in an English 
park. Five hundred men rallied among some trees 
but, surrounded and volleyed at with an accurate fire, 
they surrendered in a body. In fifteen minutes from 
the moment of the first assault, the Mexicans were 
flying in every direction. 



GENERAL SAM HOUSTON 177 

And how about the doughty Santa Anna, that 
cruel, vindictive usurper of Mexican power? 

When the first rush of furious Americans reached 
the outskirts of his camp, the brave leader of the five 
thousand, who had pillaged, plundered, and massacred 
at the Alamo and countless other Texan hamlets, — 
took to his heels. Racing as fast as he could for Vince^s 
Bridge, he was there met by a number of Texan rangers, 
who galloped after him. He plunged into a ravine, 
and for a short time was lost to view. 

Night fell upon the scene of carnage. The victors 
had secured seven hundred and thirty prisoners; six 
hundred of Santa Anna's men had been killed, and but 
eight of Sam Houston's. The Texans had captured 
arms, great numbers of mules and horses, ammunition, 
and, what was still more important, the military 
chest of the Mexican army, containing twelve thousand 
dollars. The Texan army had no military chest, but 
Houston had started out upon the campaign with a 
private fund of two hundred dollars, one fourth of 
which had been given to a woman whose husband had 
been killed at the Alamo and who had appealed to the 
warm-hearted American soldiers for aid. He had 
not the heart to refuse it. 

Next morning detachments were sent out to scour 
the country in order to take those Mexicans who had 
escaped the fight. A party of five, while chasing 
a deer, discovered a fugitive who ran away and fell 
into a morass. With some diflEiculty he was finally 
extracted and, in answer to their questioning, said 
that he was a private soldier. " But no private soldier 



178 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

would wear jewelled shirt studs/' cried a Texan ranger. 
"I believe that you are an officer/' ''No, I was the 
general's aid-de-camp/' replied the Mexican, bursting 
into tears; and, as he was not able to walk, he was 
placed on one of the horses and taken to the camp 
of victorious Sam Houston. 

As the riders approached the tent of the wounded 
Texan leader, they passed several Mexican soldiers 
who, on viewing their captive, murmured, "EI Presi- 
dente! El Presidente!" With a cry of surprise the 
soldiers gazed more intently at the supposed aid-de- 
camp. "By heavens," said one, "it's the old fox, 
himself! It's Santa Anna!" And sure enough; pried 
out of a bog by a rail; mounted on a spare, raw-boned 
horse, was the "Napoleon of the West," the demon 
of the Alamo and Goliad. How had the mighty fallen! 

Old Sam Houston, fully satisfied with the day's 
work, was lying upon a mattress in his tent, when 
Santa Anna was brought to the wounded conqueror. 
Immediately the wily Mexican demanded his release. 
"Sir," replied Houston, "I am not the Texan govern- 
ment, but am employed by it. I cannot treat with 
you on this point." 

"You should do well to treat me properly," said 
the Mexican. " There are many other Mexican soldiers, 
and your army is small." 

"Sir!" answered the Texan leader, with consider- 
able warmth. "Do you ever expect to conquer men 
who fight for freedom, when their general can march 
four days with one ear of corn for his rations?" And 
this, indeed, is said to have been the case. 



GENERAL SAM HOUSTON 179 

Stout old Sam Houston then rebuked the black- 
hearted Santa Anna for his cruelties, particularly in 
the case of the murder of Colonel Fannin, after that 
officer had surrendered with the understanding that 
he would be treated as a prisoner of war. 

"Your men in the Alamo refused to surrender,'* 
said Santa Anna. "General Urrea deceived me, in 
respect to Colonel Fannin, telling me that the Texan 
and his army had been vanquished, and I had orders 
from my government to execute all who were taken 
with arms in their hands." 

Raising himself painfully from his couch, Houston 
cried out, with heat: 

"General Santa Anna, you are the government. 
A dictator, like yourself, has no superior. Before God 
you are answerable for the souls of my compatriots 
and, by all that is just, you shall pay for this.'' 

In spite of this threat, the Mexican leader was 
treated with great courtesy, and on May 14th, 1836, 
a public, but secret, treaty was signed, by which Santa 
Anna acknowledged the independence of Texas and 
agreed to remove his troops over the Rio Grande. 
Independence had been won. 

A grateful people soon raised popular and brave 
old Sam Houston to the governorship of the new- 
made State. On February 19th, 1846, the independent 
republic was annexed to the United States, and at 
the first session of the legislature General Sam Houston 
was elected United States Senator. Here he served 
until the outbreak of Civil War between the North and 
the South, an event which gave him much sorrow. 



180 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

"The welfare and glory of Texas will be my upper- 
most thought while the spark of life lingers in this breast," 
he said in a public speech in March, 1863; but in July 
of that same year he had ceased to live. 

Even in the whirl and excitement of a great Civil 
War, the Texan people turned aside, for a few brief 
moments, to show respect for the memory of the hero 
of San Jacinto. They buried the old soldier with 
every honor, and it is well that they did so, for the great 
victory which he had won, and his timely retreat before 
the battle, showed military genuis quite worthy of a 
Hannibal, or a Stonewall Jackson. By it he had won 
the State of Texas to her own people. The memory 
of her first leader still moves the heart of the true 
Texan, as does the stirring slogan: Remember the 
Alamo! And a noble city now bears the name of the 
first great military figure of the Mexican frontier. 




KIT CARSON, 



KIT CARSON: THE NESTOR OF THE 
ROCKY MOUNTAINS 

THE expedition led by Lewis and Clarke opened 
the great West to the knowledge of the more 
adventurous whites, and soon numbers of set- 
tlers pressed into the northern section of country west of 
the Mississippi, and also into the southern portion of the 
arid plateau and tableland. From Fort Leavenworth in 
Kansas to Santa Fe, New Mexico, a wagon route was soon 
made, known as the Santa Fe trail. The redskins hung 
along the borders of this rutted way and had many 
a fierce battle with the whites as they journeyed to 
and fro in wagons and by pack train. 

The great hero of this highway to the southwest 
was Kit Carson, the Nestor of the Rocky Mountains. 
Decidedly under the average stature; quick, wiry, with 
nerves of steel and an indomitable will; such was the 
great hunter, scout and man of the plains. 

Kit Carson's youth was similar to that of any boy 
born upon the frontier, whose parents were extremely 
poor, — he existed and worked. Frequently there was 
not enough to eat in the Carson home in Howard County, 
and young Kit would be called upon to assist the meagre 
store of meat by hunting. Thus, he early came to be 
a good shot, and thus he early became an expert with 
the rifle, which was fired with a percussion cap and 

181 



182 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

loaded with a ramrod. The repeating rifle was then 
not manufactured. 

When seventeen years of age, a caravan of traders 
passed through his httle village, bound for the quaint 
old Spanish-American town of Sante Fe in the far 
Southwest, and, although apprenticed to a saddler at 
the time, young Kit could not stand the call of the 
West. He threw up his position, joined the adventurers, 
and was soon footing it over the prairie in wake of the 
long, lean men with the white-topped wagons and 
sleek-fed mules. This was in 1826, a time when the 
greatest interest was taken in the far West, for the 
people of the United States were restlessly pressing 
towards the Pacific Coast, having successfully occupied 
all of the territory east of the broad Mississippi. 

On the Arkansas River in the southwestern Colorado, 
was Bent's Fort, a frontier trading place and refuge for 
white emigrants, traders and settlers. Young Kit was 
soon engaged as a hunter here, and remained at this 
occupation for eight years. Forty men were employed 
at the fort, and it was Carson's business to supply them 
with meat from the mountains; an easy task, at times, 
but at others very difficult, for the buffalo, deer and 
antelope would migrate with the weather, and would 
often leave this section almost entirely. The hunter 
became an unerring shot and was soon well known to 
the plains' tribes of Indians — the Comanches, Arapahoes 
and Kiowas — while the Utes in the Rockies soon knew 
him so well that he visited their camps, sat in their 
lodges, smoked the pipe of peace, and dandled their 
children upon his knee. The redskins liked him ex- 



KIT CARSON 183 

ceedingly, so that they often would hsten to his counsel 
and advice. 

Here is a story that well illustrates his ability to 
sway the feelings and actions of the red men. 

One summer the Sioux, the most numerous and 
warlike of the plains' Indians of the north, came far 
south upon a hunt, until they reached the edge of the 
Arkansas River. The Comanches sent a runner to 
Bent's Fort for their friend Kit Carson, to aid them in 
driving the invaders back upon their own soil. The 
Arapahoes had united with the Comanches to assist 
them in repelling the huntsmen, and when Carson rode 
to meet the southern red men he found a vast number 
of allied braves, furious with anger at the Sioux, and 
painted and armed for immediate battle. 

"We know that the Sioux have one thousand war- 
riors and many rifles," said a Comanche chieftain to the 
well-known scout. "With your assistance we can 
overcome them and drive them back into their own 
hunting grounds. The buffalo are scarce enough. We 
need them for ourselves and not for the Sioux. Our 
hearts are now strong. We will teach them not to 
invade the soil of our fathers.'' 

"I will go to the Sioux and talk with them," said 
Carson. "Leave it to me, my red brothers, and I will 
use big medicine with the Sioux, so that they will go 
away and will not fight. Leave it to me and all will 
be well." 

So saying, he rode unaccompanied to the Sioux, 
holding up his hand as a token of peace. He was re- 
ceived by them with no ill will, and soon was in counsel 



184 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

with the head men of this powerful hunting party. 
He used his best powers of persuasion to avert a clash 
at arms, and after two days of " big talk " the Sioux 
agreed to go north as soon as the buffalo season was 
over; "for/' said they, "the buffalo have grown very 
scarce in the northern country. We must have skins 
for our tepees, and meat for the long winter. Hence 
we had to come into the country of the Comanches for 
food as our little children were crying for it." 

The Comanches agreed to withdraw also and, as 
each side kept to their agreements, the bloody battle 
was thus averted. 

In the spring of 1830 Carson had some daring adven- 
tures with the Crows. With four other men he went 
to the head waters of the Arkansas River, where he 
joined twenty men under Captain John Yount. While 
in the winter camp a band of sixty Crow Indians robbed 
the little band of skin hunters of several horses, to 
recapture which Kit Carson was dispatched with fifteen 
men. He eagerly took up the trail of the marauders. 
It was not hard to track the redskins and, after a 
day spent in following them, they were found entrenched 
behind a rude fortification of logs, with the stolen horses 
tied within ten feet of their shelter. Carson gave his 
men no time to think what they were doing, but cried 
out, " Charge !'' With a wild yell his men galloped 
furiously after the trapper, who had started well in 
advance and, although three of them dropped from 
Indian bullets, the frontiersmen were soon in among 
the horses, which they cut loose and carried off with 
them. Most of the redskins got away, although five 



KIT CARSON 185 

fell before the rifles of Carson's trappers. It had been 
a stiff, nervy fight. 

As the little band of white frontiersmen turned their 
heads towards Bent's Fort, some one said, "Boys! 
We ain't seed th' last redskin, by any means. Th' 
varmints will be after us, sure, before many days are 
out, and we'd better hurry along afore too many uv 'em 
get on our trail." 

What the old plainsman said was only too true. 
Before two days had gone a force of two hundred Crows 
surprised the men under Carson and Captain Yount,- 
and did everything in their power to capture them. 
The white men stood them off from behind boulders, 
trees and stumps and, as only a few of the red men 
had rifles, it was soon apparent that Kit Carson and 
his party would escape. The plainsmen slowly re- 
treated, keeping up a constant battle with the red 
men, and for fifty miles this fighting went on. Carson 
was wounded in the leg by an arrow. Several of his 
friends were kifled. In spite of this the little band 
held together, got out into open country, and were 
soon in the hunting ground of the Comanches, where 
the Crows were afraid to follow them, because of the 
danger of running into a hostile war party of Indians 
who were friendly to Carson and unfriendly to them. 

This was but one of many thrilling escapes. Not 
long afterwards, while Kit was camped on a tributary 
to the Green River in Colorado, a young redskin caught 
six of the best horses belonging to the twenty-five men 
who were with the bold and daring trapper, now engaged 
in capturing beaver and other fur-bearing animals. 



186 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

The theft was soon found out, and Carson, who had a 
great reputation as a "thief catcher,^' was asked to 
trace the fugitive and regain the stolen animals. Al- 
though the thieving red man had the start by several 
hours. Kit galloped after him with enthusiasm, for he 
wanted to make another capture. 

The intrepid scout knew little of this country, so 
he employed a friendly Utah redskin to assist him in 
tracking the fugitive. It is hard to realize it, but it 
speaks well for the persistence of Carson when it is 
known that he pushed after the runaway for one hundred 
miles before the thief was caught up with. It also 
shows that few red men were in this country, for none 
were either seen or met. 

Just before the thief was seen, the friendly redskin's 
horse gave out, so that he could go no further and, 
being unwilling to accompany Kit on foot, he returned 
to the camps of his own people. Carson wasted no 
time and pressed on alone, determined to catch the 
thief, or to kill his own horse in the attempt. 

Suddenly, as the plainsman rounded a high hillock, 
he saw the retreating red man, down below in a valley, 
leading the stolen horses. The fugitive looked around 
at this moment, and saw his pursurer, so he leaped 
from his horse, rifle in hand, and ran to a clump 
of Cottonwood trees. Kit saw that the Indian would 
soon be in a place of concealment, so determined to take 
a chance at him as he ran. The distance was three 
hundred yards. As the thief made for a tree, the 
keen-eyed plainsman fired, and so perfect had been 
his aim that the Indian fell forward, stone dead. 



KIT CARSON 187 

It was a remarkable shot, for the red man was on a brisk 
run, and as Carson was on his horse his arm was 
naturally jolted by the movements of his mount. 

The six horses were soon caught, tied together by 
deer thongs, and started for camp, where Carson, the 
indefatigable thief chaser, arrived after an absence 
of six days only. So delighted were the leaders of the 
trappers that the famous plainsman was presented 
with a large number of peltries, which he subsequently 
sold at a good profit and invested the proceeds in a 
new rifle, some better blankets than those he carried, 
and a few spare horses with which to transport his 
packs. For a trapper, young Kit was now in prosperous 
circumstances. 

Grizzly bears were plentiful in the country which 
Carson was accustomed to set his traps in, and while 
he was acting as a hunter, not long after his capture 
of the horse thief, he had an adventure that was both 
startling and desperate. While camped near the head- 
waters of a tiny stream where game was abundant, 
he killed a large elk within a mile of his camp and, as 
he leaned over the dead animal to cut its throat, sud- 
denly there appeared, coming towards him, a species 
of game for which he certainly had not been hunting. 
It was a large and powerful grizzly bear. 

Moved by hunger, the animal apparently wished 
to make a victim of the frontiersman. He made a 
lunge toward him, and Kit, having a sudden desire 
to climb a tree, made all possible use of his limbs to 
run to a neighboring pine, leaving his gun unloaded 
and lying beside the animal which he had just killed. 



188 FMIOUS SCOUTS 

The bear did not take the sHghtest notice of the dead 
elk, and started after the trapper, as if man meat was 
all that he was looking for, while Kit just managed 
to swing himself upon a limb as the monster's jaws 
closed beneath his left foot. Grabbing about for some- 
thing with which to defend himself, he twisted off a 
branch from the tree, and with this he struck the nose 
of the bear whenever he came uncomfortably near him. 
Bruin was greatly enraged, and began to gnaw the 
body of the tree but, tiring of this after a while, he 
began to growl and snarl with great fierceness. 

Carson was kept up the tree until nearly midnight. 
Then the big grizzly began to walk around the trunk 
in circles, and in the course of his ramblings came 
upon the body of the dead elk. He fell upon this with 
a will; gorged himself, and then lumbered away into 
the deep forest. When sure that he was gone, Carson 
speedily dropped to the ground, and seizing his rifle, 
made excellent speed towards his camp, where he was 
greeted with much joy. Alarmed over his long absence, 
his comrades intended to soon go in search of their best 
huntsman and scout. 

It was scarcely strange that a man who lived the 
life that he did would come through without a scratch, 
or a wound of some sort. Soon after the adventure 
with the big grizzly the brave Kit went to Sante Fe, 
New Mexico, and here disposed of his season's furs at 
an excellent figure. He had hardly been in this place 
for a week, before another party of fifty trappers set 
out for the Blackfeet country, on the upper Missouri 
River. The trip was long and tedious, and the band 



KIT CARSON 189 

of adventurers soon found themselves in a country 
which was held by a tribe of treacherous and cruel red 
men, the most treacherous upon the frontier. Lewis 
and Clarke, as you remember, had had a taste of their 
cunning. 

Although good watch was kept upon the red men, 
one evening a band of Blackfeet stampeded the horses 
of the white invaders, and stole eighteen of the best 
animals. Carson, who was called the great "thief 
catcher, '^ was at once asked to go after the marauders, 
and, taking twenty of the most lithe and active men 
in the expedition, he set out after the thieves in a snow 
storm. The tracks of the redskins were at first very 
plain, but after a while they became obliterated, so 
that Kit had to dismount and feel for the print of the 
fleeing horses with his hands. For seventy-five miles 
the chase was kept up in spite of all difficulties, and 
at length the red men were sighted. 

Instead of stampeding when the whites came in 
view, the Blackfeet rode towards them, one chief holding 
up his hand in token of friendship. "Ugh! Ugh!" 
said the warrior. "We will not fight. We wish to 
speak with our white brothers.'^ 

"We want our horses,'' said Carson. "We wish 
to have no fight with our red brothers, but if our red 
brothers will not give up our horses, then there will be 
one big battle." 

"How," grunted a chief. "We took the horses 
because we thought that the animals belonged to the 
Snake Indians, our enemies. We are your friends. 
We do not wish to fight." 



190 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

But, in spite of these protestations of friendship, 
the red men still refused to give up the animals. Where- 
upon some of the trappers seized the horses and began 
to walk them away towards their own outfit. In a 
moment the redskins prepared for a fight and, although 
armed chiefly with bows and arrows, some had rifles 
which they had obtained at various trading posts. 

Crash! The first rifle spoke in the stillness of the 
little forest to which the Indians and whites had with- 
drawn for the conference. A bullet zipped by the 
head of the Blackfoot leader, dropping a redskin in his 
rear, who fell like a log. Crash! Crash! other rifles 
spat out their slogans of death and, as the arrows 
hummed through the branches and tree trunks, the 
trappers took cover. Kit Carson crouched behind a 
log. Near him was his dearest friend and companion, 
called Markland, a clean man and a clear shot. Op- 
posite them were two dusky warriors, each with a good 
rifle and, as Kit took aim at his antagonist, he saw 
another red man drawing a bead upon his friend, who, 
totally unconscious of his danger, lay behind a log, 
busily loading his piece. Orach! spoke that trusty 
rifle of Kit Carson's, and the red man who had a bead 
upon Markland gave a yelp of pain, rolling over back- 
wards with a bullet in his brain. As he fell, Carson, 
himself, gave a sharp cry, for the second red man had 
fired at him, the bullet striking him in the shoulder, 
shattering the shoulder blade, and making a deep, 
gaping wound. Although badly hurt, the nervy trapper 
was not undone, and propping himself against a tree, 
he loaded again, fired, and the wild, ugly screech which 



KIT CARSON 191 

reached his ears bore full witness to the fact that his 
aim had been true. So the fight waged with fury, 
until night began to throw its shadows over the fray, 
when the red men quietly withdrew, still with most of 
the captured horses. They had won and the trappers 
had to mourn the loss of five of their companions. 

Upon searching for the wounded, Carson was found 
lying upon the snow, with his coat gathered into a 
lump at the shoulder to staunch the terrific flow of 
blood. He was lifted upon a horse, the bullet was 
extracted, and the gaping woimd was roughly bound 
up. Thus, supported by two companions, he made 
the long journey back to camp, for with five killed and 
four wounded the trappers did not think it wise to 
again attack the Blackfeet, who had showed themselves 
to be quite the equals of the whites in a rough-and- 
ready fight. They were able to get safely off, and 
although Captain Bridger took thirty men and started 
out after the thieving Blackfeet, he was unable to find 
their trail. 

Shortly after this episode, the wounded Kit Carson, 
having fully recovered, came near losing his life for a 
second time, but by the hand of a whiteskin and not 
a redskin. The party of plainsmen had been joined at 
the Green River, Colorado, by a large number of French- 
men and Canadians who were employed by the Hudson 
Bay Fur Company, the most powerful of all the com- 
panies trading upon the frontier in the United States 
and Canada. There were now about one hundred men 
in the camp, which was a force thoroughly able to 
cope with any hostile redskins who might think of 



192 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

attacking them, and running off with the Hve stock. 

You have all seen the braggart and the bully, and 
among these French adventurers was one called Shuman, 
a man particularly fond of bad whiskey and of wrestling 
with, fighting with, and bullying his companions. 
He was an autocrat and a domineering ne'er-do-well. 
On one occasion he began riding around the camp 
with his gun in his hand, crying: 

"Zese Americans are a log of ze chicken-livered 
scoundrels. What have zey evair done, anyway? 
Zey come into our rightful trapping ground and catch 
all of ze beavair which belong to us. Zere's not a man 
among 'em. Zere's not a feller in the whole outfit who 
isn't ze cowardly cur. I can lick ten of 'em at once. 
I'm a regular tornado of fury when I once break loose. 
Sacre Nom de Dieu!" 

Kit Carson, usually very quiet, stood this about 
as long as he could, and then he stepped out upon the 
piece of flat ground, upon which the Frenchman was 
riding about. 

"I am an American," said he, "and I am no coward. 
You are a vaporing bully, and in order to show you 
how Americans can punish liars, I'll fight you here in 
any manner, form, or shape that you may desire." 

Shuman drew up with a face fairly purple with rage. 

"You cur of an American," he yelled. "If you are 
looking for an opportunity to get killed, I have no 
objection to shooting you as eef you were a dog. Yes, 
ze dog of an Indian squaw man. Get on your horse, 
you snip, and we vill ride together after a hundred 
yards apart. Zen I vill kill you as a mosquito. As a 



KIT CARSON 193 

horsefly. Come on, you pale-faced scullion, I vill 
wipe up ze airth weeth you. Par done. Sapriste! 
Come on, do not let us delay!" 

^ In a moment, the lithe and agile Kit had mounted 
his horse, and in a moment he had galloped off for a 
hundred yards with his pistol in his hand. The entire 
camp had rushed out to see the fun, and every trapper 
there was for Carson, for Shuman was cordially de- 
tested by all. Kit wheeled. The Frenchman did 
likewise, and raised his rifle to his shoulder as he did so. 
He had trained himself to fire from his running horse 
by shooting buffaloes, and he felt sure that he could 
put a bullet clear through the brain of his adversary. 
The horses now swept down upon one another, 
hke knights in a tournament under Henry the Eighth 
of England, until the men were within shooting 
distance. Shuman raised his rifle and fired. All stood 
aghast, as a lock fell from Carson's hair, but he still 
kept on. The smoke from the Frenchman's gun was 
just rolling away when Carson put up his pistol and 
pointed it at the now pale-faced braggart. Crack! 
A report rang out, and a ball entered Shuman's hand, 
ploughing upward and lodging in his elbow. 

"Eet is enough!'' cried the once proud ruffian. 
"You could have killed me. I thank you for my life 
Monsieur!" ' 

And never afterwards did Shuman indulge in brag- 
ging talk while in the camp with Kit Carson, the cool 
headed. 

The winter was spent by Carson in the region of the 
Yellowstone, with only twelve other men, and it was a 



194 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

winter of starvation, for game was scarce and horses 
had to be slaughtered to supply the little party with 
meat. 

When spring came the huntsmen began to set their 
steel traps, but, unfortunately for them, their presence 
was discovered by the thieving, horse-stealing Black- 
feet, who as we have seen were the very worst 
enemies which the white men had upon the frontier. 
One day the redskins crept upon Carson and five of the 
party as they were baiting their traps and resetting 
them. A fierce running fight took place. The red men 
were kept in check until the ammunition of the trappers 
was well-nigh exhausted, and then a retreat was com- 
menced toward camp. The white men were mounted, 
and during the movement a horse, upon which one of 
the trappers had hastily scrambled, stumbled over a 
fallen log and fell, so that the rider was thrown upon 
his head. He struck a sharp stone and lay unconscious. 
Five Blackfeet inamediately rushed upon the fallen 
trapper in order to take his scalp, but the keen eye of 
Carson had seen the deed, and he leaped to a position 
near the prostrate and helpless companion. From a 
tree stump he shot the foremost red man, and fired so 
rapidly at the others that they held off in order to save 
themselves. Now, seeing that the coast was clear, 
the plucky Kit dashed to the fallen trapper and pulled 
him to a place of security behind a large boulder. Here 
he soon revived and, after catching his horse, rejoined 
his companions. 

Not long afterwards the rest of the trappers galloped 
into view, for they had heard the firing, and realized 



KIT CARSON 195 

that their compatriots must be in a desperate situation. 
The battle was now hot, and the crash of rifles waked 
the echoes of the sombre forest. Steadily the white 
men drove the yelping redskins back into the wood, 
and as the shadows of night began to fall the last 
redskin disappeared over a bluff, shaking his fist vin- 
dictively at the trappers, but nevertheless running 
away at no easy gait. 

Mountain lions were thick in the section of country 
in which the trappers found themselves. At night 
their weird screams, much like the cry of a strangled 
child, would sound from the sombre recesses of the 
wild wood, but as they are great cowards, except when 
hungry, they would rarely be seen during the day. 
Nor would they be caught in the traps which were 
set for them, as they were cunning and suspicious. 

One day Kit was walking along the bank of a stream 
where many of his traps were set, while a companion 
was behind him preparing supper in the little camp 
which they had made. Carson had a large rifle with 
him, and seeing a large grouse strutting about in the 
trail, he raised his piece in order to shoot off its head, 
when he saw a mountain lion in the upturned roots of 
a fallen tree. The beast came gradually towards him, 
and fearing that it would spring upon him, he fired 
at its forehead just between the eyes. But he missed, 
and in another instant the lion was upon him, snarling 
and hissing like a huge house cat. As he came on. 
Kit whipped out his sheath knife and struck at the 
beast, which was apparently hungry and ferocious. 
In spite of his fierce lunges, the animal jumped upon 



196 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

him, ripped his shirt with his sharp claws, and en- 
deavored to bite into his neck with his fangs. The 
two strugghng fighters fell to the ground and rolled 
over each other down a hillside, while the gallant Kit 
struck again and again at his foe. The lion bit and 
snarled, but he was no match for the trapper, and after 
biting him severely in the shoulder rolled over dead 
from the deep jabs which Kit had inflicted with his long 
knife. 

Carson now fainted from loss of blood and from 
his exertions. Thus he lay for some hours until found 
by his companion, who had tracked him to this spot. 
He was carried back to camp ; his wounds were dressed, 
and great care was bestowed upon him, for he was 
dangerously injured. After a month of illness, when 
he lingered between life and death, he began to recover, 
and at the end of two months' time was able to renew 
his trapping and hunting. It had been a close shave 
from death's door. 

Wlien the famous trapper returned to Bent's Fort, 
he fell in love with an Indian girl belonging to the 
Comanche tribe, and married her. Not long after this 
interesting event be became dangerously ill, when at 
Fort Hall, one hundred miles away, and word of 
his condition was brought to his wife at Bent's Fort, 
where she was looking after her small daughter, but two 
weeks of age. With true devotion she mounted a 
horse and immediately started to the place where her 
husband lay ill, arriving there in twelve hours. This 
great exertion brought on a severe fever, and of this 
she died in a few days, greatly mourned by the rough, 



KIT CARSON 197 

honest Kit Carson, who was devoted to her in spite 
of her nationahty. The httle daughter Hved, developed 
into a beautiful woman, and subsequently married a 
merchant of St. Louis. 

We now come to the most interesting part of the 
life of this "Monarch of the Plains'': his association 
with General John C. Fremont in exploring expeditions 
and in annexing the State of California to the United 
States of America. 

When the well-known trapper was visiting the then 
frontier post of St. Louis, it chanced that General John 
C. Fremont was in the city organizing an expedition 
for exploring that part of the country which lay between 
the Missouri River and the Rocky Mountains. The 
general sent for Kit Carson as soon as he learned that 
the famous plainsman was in town, and after a long 
interview employed him as chief guide for his expedi- 
tion into the land of unfriendly redskins. The party 
for adventure consisted of twenty-one men — prin- 
cipally half-breeds — and Louis Maxwell, of Illinois, 
who had a big reputation as a hunter. The expedition 
struck across the broad prairies of Kansas to the River 
Platte. Then they travelled by the Oregon trail past 
Fort Laramie to the beetling crags of the Rocky Moun- 
tains. The plains were covered with herds of buffalo, 
and the antelope, in little bunches, grazed contentedly 
on every side. It was a hunter's paradise. 

As the little party, sunburned, dusty and weather- 
stained, rode quietly along the bank of the river Platte, 
a great herd of buffalo, some seven or eight hundred 
in number, came crowding up from the river where 



198 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

they had been drinking and began to cross the plain 
in a leisurely manner, eating as they went. The wind 
blew from them towards the trappers, so the buffalo 
could not smell the horses and men. The distance 
between the party and the herd (two or three miles) 
gave the trappers a splendid opportunity to charge 
the bison before they could get among the river hills. 
It was a splendid opportunity for a hunt. 

The scouts halted. The hunting horses were brought 
up and saddled, while Kit Carson, Maxwell and General 
Fremont started out together to kill some meat. The 
buffaloes had grazed to within half a mile, so the three 
hunters rode easily along until they were within three 
hundred yards of them. All was going well, when 
suddenly an agitation in the herd, a wavering to and 
fro, and a galloping about of some of the animals on 
the outskirts, made it apparent that the three plains- 
men were discovered. Putting spurs to their horses, 
the hunters galloped abreast towards the black mass 
of buffalo, which now wheeled about, snorting with 
fear, and began to lumber off across the dry plain. 

A crowd of bulls brought up the rear of the stamped- 
ing mass, and every once in so often one would face 
about, and then dash on after his companions. Then 
he would turn round again and look as if he were half 
inclined to stay and fight. This did not worry the 
three plainsmen. When at about thirty yards from 
the fleeing herd, they all gave a loud yell and rode right 
into the mass. Many of the bulls, eyeing their pursuers 
instead of the ground, fell to earth with great force, 
rolling over and over in the alkali dust, and were soon 



KIT CARSON 199 

yellow instead of brown. Each man singled out his 
particular buffalo, and made for it. General Fremont 
has written: 

"My horse was a trained hunter, famous in the West 
under the name of Provean, and with his eyes flashing, 
and the foam flying from his mouth, sprang on after 
the cow I was pursuing like a hungry tiger. In a few 
moments he brought me alongside of her and. rising 
in the stirrups, I fired at the distance of a yard, the ball 
entering at the termination of the long hair, and passing 
near the heart. She fell headlong at the report of the 
gun, and checking my horse I looked around for my 
companions. 

"At a little distance Kit Carson was on the ground, 
engaged in tying his horse to the horns of a cow which 
he was preparing to cut up. Among the scattered 
bands, at some distance below, I caught a glimpse of 
Maxwell, and while I was looking a light wreath of 
smoke curled away from his gun, from which I was too 
far to hear the report. Nearer, and between me and 
the hill, was the body of the herd, and giving my 
horse the reins I dashed after them. A thick cloud 
of dust hung upon their rear, which filled my mouth 
and eyes and nearly smothered me. In the midst of 
this I could see nothing, and the buffaloes were not dis- 
tinguishable until within thirty feet. 

"They crowded together more densely still, as I 
came upon them, and rushed along in such a compact 
body that I could not obtain an entrance, the horse 
almost leaping upon them. In a few moments the 
mass divided to the right and left, the horns clattering 



200 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

with a noise above everything else, and my horse darted 
into the opening. 

" Five or six bulls charged on us as we dashed along 
the line, but were left far behind, and singling out a 
cow I gave her my fire, but struck too high. She gave 
a tremendous leap and galloped on, swifter than before. 
I reined up my horse, and the herd swept on like a 
torrent, leaving the place quiet and clear. 

"Our chase had led us into dangerous ground, a 
prairie-dog village, so thickly settled that there were 
three or four holes in every twenty yards square, occupy- 
ing the whole bottom for nearly two miles in length." 

Meanwhile, what of Kit Carson? While General 
Fremont was making his second attack upon the herd. 
Kit left the buffalo which he had killed, in order to 
pursue a large bull that came running nearby. Leap- 
ing upon his well-trained horse, he chased the game 
for quarter of a mile, but because his horse was very 
winded he could not gain upon the lumbering brute. 
At length he came up to the side of the fleeing beast 
and fired, but his horse stepped into a prairie-dog hole, 
fell upon his nose, and threw Kit fully fifteen feet over 
his head. The bullet struck the buffalo near the shoul- 
der, but did not inflict a mortal wound. Thoroughly 
enraged, the infuriated animal pursued the scout 
who, jumping to his feet with alacrity, made off to the 
river. 

Furious and bleeding from his wound, the buffalo 
charged after the fleeing trapper. It was a race for 
life. Never had Carson run as he did now, and the 
broad waters of the Platte seemed very far away, 



KIT CARSON 201 

indeed. Thud! Thud! came the animal's heels after 
the running plainsman, and as Kit leaped from the 
high bank far out into the clear water, he felt the hot 
breath of the enraged brute upon his neck. Not stop- 
ping to look behind him, he swam way out into the 
stream, then, turning about, saw the big beast 
standing upon the bank, shaking his head savagely, 
and stamping vehemently with his fore feet. Kit had 
won the fastest one-hundred-yard dash on record. 

The huntsman swam around for some time, watching 
his brute enemy with care, until finally Trapper Max- 
well saw his unfortunate predicament and came to his 
rescue. With a leaden ball he shot the big bull through 
the heart, and then Carson paddled to shore. With a 
hearty laugh he crawled to the bank and skinned his 
ferocious enemy. The wetting did not disconcert him 
in the least. For the third time in his life, he had 
escaped a savage enemy. 

After this successful hunt for buffalo the party 
pushed on into the unknown West, and soon reached 
Laramie, Wyoming, then a fort and collection of traders^ 
huts. Sighting the range of beetling mountains nearby 
they soon found a way among them, and climbed to the 
top of the highest, which was named Pike's Peak. 
Soon after this Kit Carson left the expedition and 
went to New Mexico, where, in 1843, he married a 
Mexican lady, with whom he lived very happily for 
many years, and who gave him two children, a boy 
and a girl, only one of whom, the boy, lived to 
maturity. 

In June of this year he heard that Fremont was 



202 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

organizing another expedition, so started after him as 
soon as he learned that he had left Kansas City. When 
he came up with the explorer, Fremont greeted him 
effusively, saying, "Carson, you are the man of all 
others that I am most delighted to see. If I had 
known your address I should certainly have com- 
municated my desire to have you accompany me on 
the present expedition, but since I am so fortunate as 
to meet you at my camp, your services, I trust, will 
be given me.'^ 

Kit only too joyfully joined the expedition, and 
travelled to the Great Salt Lake in Utah, to the homes 
of the Digger Indians, and to the Columbia River. 
The party reached Sutter's Fort in California as winter 
approached, and this was the identical place where 
gold was subsequently discovered for the first time. 
The men disbanded in the winter, and the adventurous 
Kit returned to Taos, New Mexico, to engage in sheep 
ranching. But in the spring Fremont projected a 
third expedition, and again called for the services of 
the seasoned plainsman. Carson disposed of his sheep 
ranch at a reckless sacrifice, and joined his old com- 
mander at Bent's Fort on the upper Arkansas. There 
were forty men with the daring "Path Finder," as 
Fremont was called, and they were all well seasoned 
veterans at plains' life and fighting Indians. 

A lieutenant who was with the party thus has 
described the manner in which Kit Carson prepared 
for the night. "A braver man," he says, "than Kit 
perhaps never lived; in fact I doubt if he ever knew 
what fear was, but with all this he exercised great 



KIT CARSON 203 

caution. While arranging his bed, his saddle, which 
he always used as a pillow, was disposed in such a 
manner as to form a barricade for his head; his pistols, 
half cocked, were laid above it, and his trusty rifle 
reposed beneath his blanket by his side, where it was 
not only ready for instant use, but was perfectly 
protected from the damp. Except now and then 
to light his pipe, you never caught Kit exposing 
himself to the full glare of the camp fire. He knew 
too well the treacherous character of the tribes among 
whom he was now travelling; he had seen men killed 
at night by a concealed foe who, veiled in darkness, 
stood in perfect security, while he shot down the moun- 
taineer clearly seen by the firelight. 'No, no, boys,' 
Kit would say, 'hang round the fire if you will; it may 
do for you, if you like it, but I don't want to have a 
Digger Injun slip an arrow into me when I can't see 
him.' " 

Not long after they had started upon this third 
expedition, as the camp was pitched upon the borders 
of a little stream near Monterey, California, they were 
met by General Castro at the head of four hundred 
Mexicans, who opposed the further progress of the 
Americans and ordered their immediate return. "I 
refuse to return," said Fremont. " This country belongs 
to us as much as it does to you. If you want us to 
leave you will have to put us out by force. There are 
other Americans at Monterey who will join me. I fear 
neither you, nor your men." 

"You will rue this," said Castro, as he withdrew. 
"I will yet drive you from our country." 



JMOUi 



204 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

The Mexicans, though in overwhelming numbers, 
hesitated to attack Fremont, knowing that his small 
force of forty men were all veterans. So they stirred 
up the Apache Indians to war heat, and launched these 
desperate fighters against the invaders of Californian 
soil. 

While Fremont rested at Lawson's post, word 
reached him of the approach of one thousand well- 
armed Apaches, who were determined to put to death 
every white man in California. "We must leave this 
post at once," said Fremont to his men, ''for we are 
in a basin around which are towering hills which, if 
the enemy once hold, will be of tremendous value to 
them, for they can shoot down upon us. We must 
march against the enemy." 

With a cheer, showing their excellent fighting 
spirit, the men moved out for the attack, and proceeded 
about fifty miles before they discovered the position of 
the redskins. The horses had not been pushed, as they 
realized the necessity of having fresh mounts when 
the red men should be met with. It was a beautiful 
clear evening when the scouts rode into the lines, crying: 
'' The Apaches are going into camp. They do not know 
of our whereabouts. We can surprise them and drive 
them out of the country!" 

"We will surround them when they are asleep," 
said Fremont. "Let every man fight as he never 
fought before, for if we do not beat them it means 
that none of us shall ever see our friends again." 

At about ten o'clock that night the Indian camp 
had been surrounded. At the word of command, the 



KIT CARSON 205 

plainsmen put spurs to their horses and galloped down 
upon the unsuspecting red men before they were aware 
of their presence. They were thrown into the greatest 
confusion, and before they could rally hundreds of 
them were shot down as they crawled from their tepees. 
The Apaches were panic stricken and retreated in the 
wildest confusion, while the invaders ruthlessly cut 
down all who stood in their path. It was a bloody 
slaughter, — but no more bloody than the slaughter 
which these self-same Apaches would have administered 
to them, had they awaited their coming and been caught 
unawares. 

This victory taught the Apaches a lesson. They 
no longer listened to the words of the Mexicans. While 
the remnant of the once powerful fighting force retreated 
south, Fremont and his hardy crew departed towards 
Oregon to explore the vast and prosperous country. 
"They were," says a writer, "a tough looking crew. 
A vast cloud of dust appeared first, and thence, in a 
long file, emerged this wildest war party. Fremont 
rode ahead, a spare, active-looking man, with such an 
eye! He was dressed in a blouse and leggins, and 
wore a felt hat. After him came five Delaware Indians, 
who were his body-guard, and have been with him 
through all his wanderings. They were his body-guard 
and had charge of the two baggage horses. 

"The rest, many of them blacker than the Indians, 
rode two and two, the rifle held in one hand across the 
pommel of the saddle. Thirty-nine of them are his 
regular men, the rest are loafers whom he has lately 
picked up. His original men are principally the 



206 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

woodsmen from the State of Tennessee and the banks 
of the upper waters of the Missouri. The dress of these 
was principally a long, loose coat of deer skin, tied with 
thongs in front; trousers of the same of their own manu- 
facture, which, when wet through, they take off, scrape 
well inside with a knife, and put on as soon as dry. The 
saddles were of various fashions, though these, and a 
large drove of horses and a brass field-gun, were things 
they had picked up around California. They are allowed 
no liquor, — tea and sugar only. This, no doubt, has 
much to do with their good conduct, and the discipline, 
too, is very strict." 

There were numerous skirmishes with the hostile 
redskins and, when the explorers returned to Lawson's 
post they found that the Mexicans were again prepared 
to dispute their advance. At Sonoma was a strong 
garrison, but this fort was attacked, and carried. All 
the Americans in the district now rallied to Fremont's 
standard, and marched against eight hundred Mexicans 
sent out by General Castro from San Francisco, crying, 
"We will exterminate every American in California.'' 
Instead of this, they retreated as soon as Fremont and 
his men approached, and were pursued for six days be- 
fore they hurriedly disbanded. Detachments from a 
fleet of United States cruisers now aided the victorious 
Fremont in an attack upon Monterey, and a flag was 
adopted, composed of red and white bunting with the 
figure of a bear in the centre. The independence of Cali- 
fornia was declared, and the "Bear Flag" became the 
emblem of its nationality. 

California was now practically free from Mexican 



KIT CARSON 207 

rule, — thanks to Fremont, Kit Carson, and their small 
force of adventurous plainsmen. Other American troops 
arrived on the scene under General Kearney, and taking 
possession of the fort at Los Angeles, practically closed 
the hostilities between the Mexicans and wild band of 
original rough riders. Forty men had made the first 
blow which struck the shackles of Mexican dominion 
from the fair soil of California, the Golden State. And 
Carson had not been the least of these. 

Kit Carson returned to New Mexico. On his way 
back he passed the Little Salt Lake, near the Wahsatch 
Mountains, whose summits were covered with many feet 
of snow. In crossing a deep gorge, suddenly he and his 
party stumbled upon the remains of ten human beings, 
whose bones lay bleaching in the bright rays of the sun. 
Hungry wolves had gnawed and torn them, so that they 
were widely scattered. "These are the relics of some 
unfortunate party of whites that has been cut off by 
the red men," said Carson, sadly. " One of these lying 
apart from the rest, from the bullets and arrow heads 
in the tree nearby, must have belonged to one of the 
party who fought from this shelter until overcome by 
the enemy.'' 

It was subsequently learned that these bones be- 
longed to a party of Americans from Arkansas who had 
been surprised by hostile red men, while resting to eat 
their luncheon at noon, and that they had been all 
killed, with the exception of one of their number, who 
snatched up his rifle, retreated to the nearest cover, and 
there put up a despairing battle, slaying several of his 
attackers, before he was dispatched by the arrows of the 



208 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

murderous redskins. Such episodes ■ were common in 
the settlement of western America, and show what des- 
perate chances men would take when penetrating into 
the unknown. 

The rest of Kit Carson's life was spent in ranching 
and fighting Indians, a business which he was now an 
adept in. One little fight of his deserves special mention. 

Some Apaches raided the settlements near the home 
of the famous scout and, after murdering several of 
the settlers, made off into the mountains. Carson 
started in pursuit with a band of revengeful white men 
and tracked them to a strong position in the mountains. 
So eager was old Kit to avenge the slaughter of his friends 
that he gave a wild shout and dashed after the savages, 
expecting, of course, to be reinforced by his companions. 
But, as he galloped towards the red men, his friends 
fell back, and he suddenly found himself alone among 
the red men. 

One of Carson's great characteristics was his absolute 
coolness in time of danger. As the red men, with a wild, 
ear-splitting yelp of hatred, debouched from their hiding 
place and galloped around him, in a second he threw 
himself upon the off side of his horse, and rode back 
towards his party. Fortunately for him, the Apaches 
had only arrows. Six stuck into Kit's trusty horse as 
he beat this wild retreat, and a bullet passed through his 
coat tail. But he came off scott free, and was soon 
laughing and smiling with his companions, as the red- 
skins were forced to withdraw from a well-aimed volley 
of the whites. The Apaches scattered and escaped into 
the wild passes of the bleak and barren mountains. 



KIT CARSON 209 

Such was his reputation in fighting these scourges 
of the settlements that, in 1862, the gallant Kit was 
entrusted with an important command against some of 
the thieving and murdering tribes of New Mexico and 
Arizona. He brought the Mescaleros to terms. He 
made such a spirited attack upon the Navajoes that 
they finally unconditionally surrendered and were placed 
in a government reservation. Near the Canadian 
River, in Texas, he attacked a Kiowa village of about 
one hundred and fifty lodges and signally defeated this 
strong and powerful tribe. " This brilliant affair,'' 
said his conmaanding officer, "adds another leaf to the 
laurel wreath which you have so nobly won in the ser- 
vice of your country.'' And with all this praise, sturdy 
old Kit — now a general — was as modest as a child. 
Such was his power among the redskins that he was 
appointed Indian agent, a post which he filled with 
the greatest satisfaction to the United States Govern- 
ment. 

All men must grow old. The wiry and indefatigable 
scout, ranchman, Indian fighter and soldier began to 
show signs of the hard life which he had led upon the 
plains. In spite of his years, in January, 1868, he was 
called to Washington to give evidence and advice in a 
dispute between the Government and the Apaches. A 
number of these fierce warriors accompanied him. 

The journey of the famous plainsman to the East 
was a great triumphal tour. Everywhere along the 
route flags were raised and cities were decorated with 
flowers and bunting in token of the great admiration 
which was felt for the famous pioneer and Indian fighter; 



210 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

for he embodied characteristics which: all admire, — cool- 
ness, good sense, honesty and courage. 

In March, the great pioneer returned to New Mexico, 
well pleased and gratified with the honors which his 
grateful countrymen had showered upon him. But 
the Angel of Death hovered over the once vigorous 
frame of the mighty pioneer. On the 23d of May, 1868, 
while visiting his son at Fort Lyons, Colorado, and when 
in the act of mounting a horse, an artery in his neck was 
ruptured, and in a few moments the soul of the great 
plainsman had gone to the great beyond. 

So remember the famous mountaineer, trapper, 
guide, pioneer, and Indian counsellor. As a frontiers- 
man he had no superior. His reputation was never 
tainted with any moral stain; he was neither a mur- 
derer, or a man who engaged in frontier brawls. The 
times bred men of courage, and he was one of these. 
The wild country needed men of clear head and un- 
daunted nerve to advance its civilization, and it found 
its path maker in brave Kit Carson. All honor to the 
New Mexican sheep-rancher, Indian fighter, and man 
of the plains. He lived his wild life and lived it well. 
No man could have done better than he. Skoal to the 
Nestor of the Rocky Mountains! 




GENERAL WILLIAM A. HARNE^ 



GENERAL WILLIAM A. HARNEY: THE 

EVERGLADE FIGHTER AND 

MARVELLOUS RUNNER. 

AT Two Thousand Mile Creek, in the then un- 
explored country of the Middle West, a con- 
ference was being held between the Crows, 
Mandans, and Gros Ventres Indians, on the one hand, 
and some officers of the United States army, on the 
other. 

''We wish to have the restoration of a family of 
British subjects which you have with you," said a 
Major O'Fallon to the chiefs in council. "The Minister, 
or he-who-makes-big-talk for the men beyond the 
seas, has asked that they be returned. We want 
them now.'' 

"Ugh!" grunted a fat chief. "We will give back 
the people of the men-who-live-beyond-the-great- 
waters, but we must have much for them. We want 
heap rifle, ball, blanket, whiskey for the people of the 
man-who-makes-big-talk. " 

At this outrageous demand the eyes of the gallant 
major began to flash fire. 

"You shall give them back without any ransom, 
at all," he said, advancing towards the redskins. Seiz- 
ing his long army pistol, he struck the speaker over the 
head and face with the butt end. 

Not a word was spoken by either the outraged chief 
211 



212 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

or the rest of the red men. Their eyes flashed fire as 
they reached for their rifles. 

At this juncture, a hthe young Heutenant jumped 
forward from his seat upon the peace blanket and, 
seizing the irate major by both hands, threw him to 
the sod. Immediately the well-disciplined white troops, 
who saw the affair from afar, came running up in order 
to be of assistance to their officers. 

''^This action of our brother is the act of a mad man," 
said the lieutenant, to the infuriated chiefs. "Our 
brother has not been sleeping well. His mind is as 
the red man's when he has partaken of the fire water 
of the white man. He knows not what he does. Come, 
I would take you by the hand to show you that we bear 
our red brethren no ill will.'' 

As he advanced towards a Crow chieftain, with his 
arms outstretched, the red man looked upon him with 
sullen defiance, with his arms folded. 

"Come, brother," cried the lieutenant, "I wish 
to make peace with you. Will you not take my hand?" 

"Ugh!" grunted the Crow. "You are a young 
man with the eye of an eagle. You have the look 
of a man who speaks from a pure heart. You are a 
Hawk-with-a-beaver's-eye. I will take your hand, 
for I believe that you tell what is true." 

And, so saying, he grasped the outstretched hand 
of the United States officer. Order was quickly re- 
stored. The negotiations were continued, and a treaty 
of peace was concluded, whereby the red men secured 
an excellent ransom for their prisoners. 

Ever afterwards the young lieutenant was known 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY 213 

as the Hawk-with-a-beaver's-eye, and ever afterwards 
Lieutenant William S. Harney was much respected 
and admired among the red men, for he was one of the 
few white men who kept his word, and upon whose 
counsel they could rely. 

This noted soldier was tall and spare. He possessed 
a power of endurance which was great, and the reputa- 
tion of the man-who-could-run-like-the-deer reached 
the ears of the redskins dwelling upon the waters of 
the upper Missouri. They challenged him to a foot race. 

Unfortunately, although Lieutenant Harney ac- 
cepted the gage of battle, he ran against a Crow Indian, 
encumbered with his uniform, in the pockets of which 
were many relics and curiosities which he had been 
buying from the red men. The Crow athlete soon 
outdistanced him and came in first, amid the cries of 
joy of his companions. 

"How!'' cried the heutenant when he had regained 
his breath. "You beat me fair. But I will run you 
tomorrow. Will you do so?" 

"Ugh! Ugh!'' cried the Crow. "I run you again 
for heap buffalo robe and blanket. Ugh! Ugh! You 
cannot beat me. I am like the jack rabbit and you 
are Hke the tortoise." 

"We shall see," muttered the young soldier, as he 
walked away, somewhat nettled by the remark of 
the bombastic runner. 

Next day the friends of the Crow warrior appeared 
upon the flat prairie, laden with buffalo robes, tobacco, 
and all the ornaments that they could pick up, in order 
to reward the winner. Soon the lieutenant arrived, 



214 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

clad only in a pair of light, linen trousers, a shirt, and 
a pair of moccasins. The red man also came up with 
nothing on but a breech clout and moccasins. 

The race was to be a quarter mile, four hundred 
and forty yards, and was upon a natural running track, 
for the ground was perfectly level, covered with very 
short grass. A red man started the two contestants 
by dropping a blanket, and like two grej^hounds 
they dashed over the plain. The Indian led for a 
hundred yards, while the wild yelping of his companions 
sounded loud above the beating of tom-toms which 
the women were banging as the two runners came 
across the prairie. On! On! they came, and now 
Harney grew nearer and nearer to his antagonist. At 
two hundred and twenty yards he had edged up to 
within one pace of the Crow. At two hundred and 
thirty yards he had brushed by him and, amid the 
wildest yelling and screeching that had been heard in 
that country for many moons, the white man came 
down the finish, leading by full five yards. A piece 
of deer thong had been stretched between two spears, 
to act as a line for the end of the race, and, as Harney's 
waist snapped the cord, the most ear-splitting screech 
arose from the throats of the red men. He was seized 
and carried in triumph from the field. 

^'I wouldn't have had you lose that race for one 
thousand dollars," said General Atkinson, his command- 
ing officer. "These red men would have never let me 
alone if you had lost. They would have rubbed it in 
for years, claiming that the Indians were far superior 
to the whites in athletic ability," 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY 215 

In the winter of 1829 the winner of this famous 
foot race was stationed at Portage-des-Sioux, between 
the Fox and the Wisconsin rivers, and had under his 
command several red men who were enrolled as scouts 
and runners. One of them, Little Turtle Egg, had 
broken one of the rules of the garrison, so the com- 
mander determined to administer a flogging to him. 
As he believed in giving every one a fair chance, he told 
the redskin that he would give him a start of twenty- 
five yards, and, if he could reach a certain point before 
he was caught, he could go free. "How! How!" 
said the red man. '' You one fast runner, but you give 
me a good start. I will do as you say." 

Arming himself with a stout cow-hide stick with 
which to beat the Indian, Harney took his position out- 
side the fort, giving the red man his desired number of 
yards. At the report of a pistol, fired by one of the 
soldiers, they were both off. 

For a time the redskin held his own, but soon the 
fleet feet of the white man carried him nearer and 
nearer to the fleeing Indian. But the fugitive had his 
good sense with him. He suddenly turned and directed 
his course to one of the numerous air holes in the river, 
where the ice was exceedingly thin. With a bound, 
he leaped over the thinnest part and galloped off across 
the firmer ice, not daring to look behind him as he ran. 
Harney reached the place and started to jump, also, 
but suddenly — splash! — the surface gave way and 
he was plunged into the ice-cold water. The cow-hide 
whip sank to the bottom, and it was fully twenty 
minutes before the soldiers from the fort extracted 



216 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

their gallant commander. Mean-^ile, the redskin 
was laughing softly in the forest. 

You know about the Black Hawk War so fully 
described in "Famous Indian Chiefs," so I will not 
describe the causes which led to its outbreak. Lieu- 
tenant Harney was a captain at the time of this Indian 
uprising, and, at Fort Armstrong, made the acquaint- 
ance of Colonel Zachary Taylor who was subsequently 
to be President of the United States, and also of a 
young militia captain, a country lawyer called Abra- 
ham Lincoln; also a future Chief Executive. 

In a council of war which was held among the 
soldiers, after the Indians had been driven far into 
the woods, Captain Harney remarked: 

"The Indians have but one hiding place in the 
whole country, and it will be very difficult to find. 
If you will allow me. General Atkinson, I will take 
fifty men and make a reconnoissance." 

The general shook his head. "Such a force would 
be too small,'^ he replied. "The party would be in 
great danger of being cut off. Take three hundred 
Pottawattomies with you and you will have some 
show with the enemy." 

But, when the chief of these friendly Indians was 
approached, he said, " Black Hawk got many warriors, 
he jump out from ambush and kill such few Indians and 
white men. Captain Harney he big fool to go without 
big army. Ugh! We stay behind. No fight without 
big army." 

"Well," ejaculated Harney. "If you won't go, 
I'll clean 'em up with my fifty." 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY 217 

And, as the redskins looked on sneeringly, the bold 
captain started out to find Black Hawk with his far 
inferior force. A few friendly Menominees went with 
him, but they soon deserted, leaving only one of their 
number, who had once had a severe personal encounter 
with the fleetest runner among the whites. 

^'Me stay with Captain Harney," said he. "Me 
stay and die with him, for he one big runner, one big 
fighter, him one big man." 

As a matter of fact the redskins were not found 
ready for battle. Black Hawk and his men were dis- 
covered to be retreating towards the Wisconsin River. 
So the willing fifty came back to warn General At- 
kinson of the position of his foe. 

"We will finish the war, right now," cried that 
soldier, when he learned that Black Hawk had deter- 
mined to make a stand. "Forward, men, we will 
avenge the depredations upon our frontier!" 

By a forced march the band under Black Hawk 
was finally struck in a position that was naturally 
well suited for defense. The warriors were desperately 
attacked and, forced from their position, they backed 
away towards the Mississippi in order to make another 
stand. But here the American troops again attacked 
them impetuously and, although Black Hawk urged 
on his men with lofty courage, they were driven from 
hill to hill, like the Old Guard at Waterloo. And 
here — like the English troops at the great battle in 
Belgium — the Americans made a last furious onset, 
and drove those who had survived their former attacks 
into the river. Harney was in the thick of this battle 



218 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

of the Bad Axe, and right well did he distinguish him- 
self. Black Hawk — as you know — fled up the 
river and hid himself in the woods where, after a two 
days' search, he was discovered by some friendly Sioux 
and turned over to the white troops. His star had 
set. 

The next campaign in which Captain Harney en- 
gaged was the fierce one against Osceola in the Ever- 
glades of Florida. During the long campaign which 
here took place, before the Seminoles were finally 
subdued, Colonel Harney (for he had now been ad- 
vanced in rank) had many exciting adventures. Here 
is one of them: 

With a number of dismounted dragoons, the cele- 
brated soldier was sent to capture Sam Jones, one of 
the head chiefs of the Seminoles, who had massacred 
many whites. By forced night marches he pursued 
him and his men far into the jungle and surprised them. 
They fled into the miry swamps in a tangled morass 
through which the troops could not follow. And — 
as they rushed after the flying savages — one of the 
soldiers shot a squaw, mistaking her in the confusion 
of battle for a warrior. 

Colonel Harney was greatly distressed because the 
injury had been accidental and had been inflicted upon 
a woman. The soldiers did all that they could to 
relieve her. They were at considerable loss to know 
what to do with her. 

"I have a suggestion which I think is good," said 
Harney. " If we leave her, her friends will come after 
her, at night. We will not capture those who come 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY 219 

and will allow them to take their own flesh and blood 
away. Even if Sam Jones, himself, should come, 
I will still allow her to go, but this is hardly a pos- 
sibility.'^ 

Here he was mistaken. As the shadows of night 
began to fall, two dark figures glided from the under- 
brush straight to the spot where the woman was lying. 
They seized her and, as a bright gleam of the early 
moon fell upon the two warriors, Colonel Harney saw 
that it was Sam Jones, himself. It was hard to restrain 
himself from leaping upon the figure of this arch des- 
perado, but he remembered his word and allowed 
him to go free. 

The Seminole woman recovered. When months 
afterwards the tribe was met by Colonel Harney and 
his dragoons, to decide upon peace, she went up to 
him and, kneeling, kissed the skirt of his coat. 

" You one good man,'' said she. " You give me my 
life. I never forget you.'' 

A month later, when leaving his tent one morn- 
mg, he found a gayly knitted scarf tied to the tent 
pole, and on it were the words, "To the mighty runner, 
from Tuscalora. Good luck." 

In spite of this the colonel soon had some very bad 
luck. 

A treaty was made with the Seminoles and Colonel 
Harney was directed to select a suitable site for a 
trading house, to be built in the reservation set aside 
for the redskins. A site was selected on the Caloo- 
sahatchie River, fifteen miles above the mouth of this 
stream, and thirty dismounted dragoons were here 



220 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

left in charge, while the colonel made a short trip to 
General Taylor's headquarters at Tampa Bay. He 
requested two companies of troops to protect the re- 
cently erected house, but these were refused him. 
So he turned back to the post, naturally much dis- 
gruntled. 

While he was away a letter had come from the 
Secretary of War, at Washington, to the effect that 
the truce with the Seminoles was only temporary, 
and that a new one would have to be agreed to. In 
some mysterious way the redskins heard of it and swift 
runners spread the news among all the tribes, before 
the whites themselves knew the contents of the letter. 
Colonel Harney himself had not heard of it. 

When he had returned to the newly-founded post 
and was on a boat, anchored in the stream, the famous 
chief Billy Bowlegs came on board and told him that 
the Seminole chiefs wished to see him before he left. 
Never guessing that the Indians had heard something 
from Washington, he decided to go ashore and to spend 
the night in a canvas tent which he had here erected. 
As no red men appeared in the morning, he went out hunt- 
ing, returning at nine in the evening thoroughly worn 
out with his exertions. Removing his coat and his 
boots, he lay down with the full intention of getting 
up when the sergeant-of-the-guard posted the sen- 
tinels. But he fell asleep. 

As daylight stole over the river, Harney jumped 
up with a start. Guns were going off. Indian yelpings 
sounded from the woodland, and shouts in the familiar 
voices of his own men. "Run to the water! Quick/' 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY 221 

he heard a sentry cry out and, as he bounded into the 
open, he saw many of his men standing in the river 
up to their necks, and wholly unarmed. He deter- 
mined to save himself. 

Turning towards the river, the startled officer ran 
about a quarter of a mile, and then walked a few paces 
into the shallow water. He came back and went up 
the bank with his toes pointing towards the water so 
that it would seem as if two white men had been drowned 
at this place, after entering the rapid current of the 
Caloosahatchie. Next he swam about two hundred 
yards down stream and took to the brush. 

Meanwhile what had happened to the men who were 
standing in the water, hoping to elude the red men? 
The redskins rushed down to the bank of the sweet- 
named river, and with wild and hilarious yelpings 
fired their arrows at the helpless dragoons. Unfor- 
tunately few of the whites could swim. Some seized 
an old flatboat and escaped, but the majority were 
massacred by the half-wild Seminoles, whose blood- 
curdling yells echoed through the stillness of the dark 
and sombre forests. As soon as the last unfortunate 
American soldier had been thus murdered, the red 
men rushed frantically towards the tent of Colonel 
Harney. With an ear-splitting whoop they announced 
the unwelcome intelligence that he had vanished and, 
taking up his trail, they dashed towards the river in 
wild pursuit. 

When the war-mad Seminoles reached the water 
and saw the two trails leading from the bank, they 
gave a great yell of defiant joy. 



222 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

"See. The man-who-fight-much, he rather drown 
than meet us," cried a warrior. 

"Ugh! Ugh!'' mumbled a disappointed Seminole 
warrior. "He no fight this time. He much talk. 
He one big coward." 

Meanwhile Harney was creeping through the under- 
brush upon the other side of the river, and was making 
off down a woodland path. As he rounded a dense 
covert, he discovered to his horror that a large man 
was coming towards him, and thinking that it was a 
Seminole, he drew his pocket knife, pulled out the 
largest blade, and stood ready to plunge it into whom- 
soever should approach. 

As the figure came nearer, suddenly the light from 
the sun penetrated the gloom of the Everglades, and 
shone upon the face of one of the colonel's own dragoons. 
Immediately the fleeing officer leaped from the brush 
and, instead of stabbing the oncomer, threw his arms 
about him in a transport of joy. " I was one of the few 
who could swim," said the dragoon, whose name was 
Britton. "I followed you across the river, hoping to 
catch up with you, and I am glad that I have done so. 
We must make for one of the forts as fast as we can." 

Harney said nothing, but grimly plunged into the 
gloomy forest, over the mangrove roots and saw- 
grass that lacerated his unprotected feet and made 
progress both slow and tiresome. Blacking their 
faces with charred wood left from camp-fires of both 
red men and white, so that they might better disguise 
themselves, they plodded sullenly through the tangle 
of vegetation. 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY 223 

So they moved onward for several hours when, 
as they neared a winding curve of the river, Britton 
heard a voice in the stillness. "Hist!'' he whispered. 
"It may be the Seminoles in canoes. I will creep up 
to the bank and look." 

Worming upon his stomach through the dense 
weeds, he peered through the branches at the shim- 
mering current of the Caloosahatchie. A flight of birds 
flew screaming through the jungle as he reached the 
water's edge, and, as he gazed out upon the broad ex- 
panse of river, he saw a canoe in which two Seminoles 
paddled stealthily up the stream. In a moment he had 
turned and was back at Harney's side. 

"Britton, can you fight?" asked the colonel. 
"I will die with you," answered the dragoon. 
"Then we'll have a little tug-of-war right now. 
Do not let one of them stab me in the back when I am 
fighting with the other. I can soon overcome and 
kill one of these fellows and then I will be all ready 
for the second. Where are they?" 

"Under the wild fig tree near the big bend." 
"I will go now. Be sure and keep a sharp watch 
for other redskins and, if you see another canoe ap- 
proaching, be certain to warn me." 

As Harney crept towards the wild fig tree, his 
heart beat tumultuously, but he was bold and deter- 
mined; besides, in his heart was a sickening hatred 
for the men who had helped to butcher his companions 
in the morning. The red men had gone ashore. When 
they saw him coming they dashed towards their boat, 
but the fleet-footed colonel was before them. He 



224 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

jumped into it, seized a loaded rifle which the Seminoles 
had been incautious enough to leave inside and, level- 
ling it at a running red man, bowled him over like 
a jack rabbit. The other, seeing Britton as he ran 
up, decided that the Everglades was the best place 
for him. So he made off, pursued by a bullet from 
a second load which Harney had rapidly shoved into 
the barrel. It missed him by a hundred feet. 

Now paddling down the stream, the two adventurers 
soon overtook those of the dragoons who had escaped 
in the flatboat. ^' I am going to return to our camp,'' 
cried the bold-hearted colonel, "for I want to see 
what has become of my brave men. I cannot com- 
prehend what precipitated this attack, as the Seminoles 
have always been friendly since the signing of the 
treaty." He was, as yet, wholly ignorant of the reason 
for this sudden and wajnvard assault by the men of 
the Everglades. 

With seven men, this courageous warrior returned 
that evening to the former camp in order to ascertain 
who had been killed. Leaving two men to watch the 
boat and canoe, he proceeded to the camp, — there 
to find the mutilated bodies of the dead soldiers, all 
of them hacked beyond recognition. Five, indeed, 
were not to be accounted for, so a great shouting and 
hallooing was indulged in by the live soldiers. It was 
learned afterwards that two heard the shouts but, 
fearing that it was a ruse of the Seminoles to draw them 
from their hiding places, they remained where they 
were. 

Next day the survivors of this sudden and un- 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY 225 

expected attack journeyed to Florida Bay and there 
learned of the letter of the Secretary of War, which 
had precipitated the early morning assault. The news 
of the massacre of Colonel Harney's men spread rapidly 
over Florida and produced the most profound sensa- 
tion, leading to the bloodiest kind of hostilities. Yet 
the ignorant Secretary of War, whose absurd conduct 
had been the cause of all this, was retained in the Cabi- 
net of the President of the United States; his conduct 
condoned and not censured. By his mandate blood- 
hounds were imported into the Everglades to hunt 
down the Seminoles who, like the water moccasin, 
glided through the underbrush and cane thickets with 
sHppery quiet. The hounds were found to be "per- 
fectly useless,^' and never were many of the roving 
Seminoles come upon. 

Now came the last battle of this strange warfare 
in the Florida Everglades. 

In December, 1840, orders came to Colonel Harney 
to push into the Everglades and attack the chief Chai- 
kika, a Spanish Indian, and a ruthless fighter. The 
cunning red man had made his home deep in the centre 
of the miasmic Everglades. On an island he had taken 
refuge, where there was a vast expanse of water, vary- 
ing from one to five feet in depth, covered with an 
almost impenetrable saw grass, except where curving 
channels extended in every direction, dotted with 
innumerable islands. It was known that many of the 
Seminoles had taken refuge in this weedy waste* 

A negro who had been captured by the red men 
came to the camp of the soldiers and told them where 



226 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

to find the Seminoles. With ninety men in boats 
Colonel Harney therefore started for the home of the 
men of the marshes, who had stood out against the 
power of the government for so long a time and had 
massacred so many of those of the opposite race. The 
negro knew well how to find the way. He led the 
soldiers directly to the island where the Indians were 
encamped in fancied peace and security, with Chai- 
kika sprawling upon the grass, in total unconsciousness 
of the presence of those troops upon whose comrades 
he had perpetrated the frightful massacre of the Caloosa- 
hatchie. 

As the soldiers approached, the chief arose from his 
position and began to chop wood. When the men 
of the United States army dashed towards him, he 
dropped his axe and, in the words of an old writer, 
" took to the tall grass. '^ Two or three dragoons started 
in pursuit, but only one could keep up with the speedy 
red man. It was a trooper named Hall, who had shot 
the squaw by mistake in that previous skirmish with 
the Seminoles. 

Seeing that he was to be overtaken, the cruel red- 
skin turned and threw up his hands in token of sub- 
mission. "Ugh!" cried he. "Do not strike, I one 
good Indian. I love my white brothers." 

"You coward! You did not love your white broth- 
ers at the Caloosahatchie," cried the soldier. "Here 
is what you deserve." 

And raising his rifle, he shot him through the brain. 

In the camp of this last remnant of the Seminole 
Confederacy was found two thousand dollars' worth 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY 227 

of stolen goods and thirteen revolvers belonging to the 
massacred dragoons of Colonel Harney. All but one 
of the captured warriors were hanged; the one was 
reserved as a guide. It was practically the end of the 
Seminole War. 

So much for the Everglades. You can rest assured 
that General Harney was glad to get away from these 
swampy bottoms and, when Washington ordered 
him to the plains again, he was only too ready to go. 
After serving upon the Texan frontier he was moved 
to Wyoming where, in very few months, there were 
serious difficulties with the red men, and all about a 
poor, old cow. Who would think that a cow could 
raise an Indian war? 

A party of emigrants from Kansas to California 
passed the Big Platte River, about thirty miles below 
Fort Laramie, leaving a cow behind them. It had 
given out on the march and was turned over to the 
Bois Brules, who apportioned it to a certain chieftain 
of the tribe. 

Food was scarce about this time, and when an 
Ogallala chieftain came to visit the Bois Brules, a 
head man of the village stepped out and said, 

"We glad to see you. Chief. But we cannot have 
a feast. Our rations from the great white father 
are only sufficient to feed ourselves. Ugh! Ugh! 
We no kill even black dog." 

" I have seen a white buffalo [cow] upon the prairie," 
said the Ogallala chief. "I and my warriors will go 
out on a hunt." 

So saying, he rode off upon his war pony. When 



228 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

the party returned, it was with the carcass of the 
white buffalo. 

No sooner had the poor old cow disappeared 
down the throats of the hungry men of the plains 
than the owner sent a bill for it into Fort Laramie. 
The officer in command paid him. Then a force of 
thirty men was sent to the Ogallalas, demanding the 
person of the red man who had cut down the cow. 
Unfortunately, the soldiers had been drinking John 
Barleycorn, and when they arrived at the village their 
demand for the cattle thief was couched in pretty 
rough language. 

A chief named Black Beaver met the officers of the 
United States Government with great dignity. 

"The Ogallala chief who killed the white buffalo 
is in the village of Bois Brules/' said he. "They can- 
not give him up to his enemies. But he has behaved 
badly. You can take him. That is his lodge!" 

The lieutenant in charge of the troops showed some 
anger. "You must bring him here," said he. 

Black Beaver's eyes shone with a beady lustre. 

"The Indian does not give up the friend who is 
in his lodge," said he. "Black Beaver's friends would 
kill him if he did so." 

"I'll give you five minutes," cried the lieutenant. 
" And then — if the culprit is not delivered — I will 
give the order to my men to fire." 

The five minutes passed and the red man did not 
stir. 

"Fire!" shouted the lieutenant, whose indiscretion 
was helped on by bad whiskey. 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY 229 

The shots from the rifles of the soldiers rang out, 
and Black Beaver pitched headlong upon his face. 
The Indians scattered, hut in a few moments they 
opened upon the whites from behind tepees and lodge 
poles. All the whites were killed but one man, who 
was taken into a warrior's lodge and nursed back to 
health. Such was the beginning of the war of 1854. 

The entire Sioux nation went upon the war path 
in defense of the Bois Brules. The whole frontier was 
in a turmoil. In such a state of affairs the most dis- 
tinguished Indian fighter in the army was, of course, 
called for by President Pierce, who said to him, 

"General Harney, you have done so much Indian 
fighting that I will give you no orders. But I wish 
you to assume command and whip the redskins for us. 
Will you do so?" 

"I wilV answered the old war horse, and in an 
hour he had left for the frontier. 

No sooner had the Hawk-with-a-beaver's-eye reached 
the Indian country, than a Sioux chieftain called Little 
Thunder sent him a message by a runner. 

"I will either shake hands with you, or I will fight,'' 
was the missive. 

General Harney was marching towards the Sioux 
camp as the runner approached him. 

"Tell Little Thunder that he has robbed the mails 
and has killed twenty emigrants," said he. "I intend 
to march immediately upon him and his warriors." 

Next morning, while the bugles blared the charge, 
the soldiers dashed into the redskin camp and had a 
hand-to-hand battle with the Sioux. Seventy-two red 



230 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

men were soon dead, and the Sioux were driven over ten 
miles. The redskins retreated with their women and 
children, and Harney allowed them to get away, because 
he did not want to kill the latter. 

"I have given them a good lesson,'^ said he. "Now 
let us see whether or no they will sue for peace.^^ 

They did so. This decisive victory awed the Sioux 
into submission, and soon runners came in requesting 
a conference. All but two bands of hostiles made a 
treaty with the government, and the war was over. 

When the famous Indian fighter was ordered to 
Oregon, in 1858, in order to quell disturbances among 
tlie Flat Head Indians, he made a wise move when he 
took along with him an eminent Jesuit priest called 
Father de Smet. This man of God had been a mis- 
sionary among the tribes along the Columbia River 
and knew the red men and their ways like a book. 
His influence among them was excellent. 

The hostiles were invited to a council, at which 
the major of the army said: 

" The great war-chief General Harney, who is known 
among all the redskins for his success among them, is 
on his way here; and, if you do not accede to the terms 
which we propose, he will make war upon you, so that 
you will be glad to accept even harder conditions. 
You had better submit. '^ 

"Ugh! Ugh!'' spoke a chief. "We know the 
Hawk-with-a-beaver's-eye. We fear him. It shall be 
as you say." 

And when the fearless Everglade fighter arrived, 
he found that many of the tribes had sued for peace, 



GENERAL WILLIAM S. HARNEY 231 

and treaties had been made with them. Such is the 
power of a name. 

But the gallant soldier's life was to end in troubled 
times. When the Civil War broke out he hastened 
to Washington, only to be confronted with an order 
depriving him of his command, and giving him leave 
of absence until further orders. The further orders 
never came, and the name of the great border fighter 
is still upon the retired list. This was his unjust treat- 
ment after a life spent in hardships for the government. 
His sympathies, too, were not with the South. 

Not long afterwards the splendid old soldier went 
to the Happy Hunting Grounds where, no doubt, he 
often hunts the buffalo with those with whom he strug- 
gled with rifle and sabre during his career upon the 
wide western frontier. As a writer has justly written: 

''His perfect knowledge of Indian character, and 
his wisdom in adapting his plan of action to the enemy 
with whom he had to deal, secured him a greater degree 
of success than any officer assigned to duty on the 
frontier. His one rule in intercourse with them, never 
broken, was to keep faith.'' 

An excellent thing for every young man to remember 
— Keep the faith! 



WILD BILL HICKOK: TRAPPER, SCOUT 
AND FEARLESS GUN FIGHTER. 

IN the year preceding the Civil War in the United 
States, a man lay upon the floor of a dugout 
at Rock Creek, Kansas, bleeding from many 
deep and dangerous wounds. Some travellers were 
bending over him and, as he opened, his lips to answer 
the numerous queries of, "How did you get into this 
fight?" "How did you defend yourself?" his words 
came in short, sudden gasps. 

" When six of the crowd piled on me and one struck 
me with his gun, I thought my day had come, so I just 
got wild and slashed about like a bear with a death 
wound, and guess that is how I came to get away with 
them." 

" I just got wild and slashed about!" That sentence 
struck his hearers as being of particular humor. So 
they christened the half-dead man Wild Bill, and as 
Wild Bill he was always known thereafter. 

But how did the fight come about? This is interest- 
ing, for it was one of the most famous affairs of frontier 
history. The papers were full of it at the time and the 
magazines had a description of the great battle between 
Wild Bill Hickok and the McCandlas gang. 

In the latter part of the year 1860, the hero of this 
essay, who was born in Illinois, left the employment of 
some fighters, to accept a position with the Overland 

232 




WILD BILL HICKOK. 



WILD BILL HICKOK 233 

Stage Company as watchman and hostler at Rock 
Creek Station, a point upon the old River Platte stage 
route, fifty miles west of Topeka, Kansas. The stage 
company, which ran its coaches between St. Joseph, 
Missouri, and Denver, Colorado, had built stables for 
twenty-five horses at this point, and had placed two 
men in charge — Hickok and "Doc.'' Mills, a small 
Irishman who did the cooking and assisted in the care 
of the horses. It was lonely, but they liked it. 

The two men lived in a small log hut, having but 
one room, divided by the suspension of an old horse 
blanket, back of which was the bed. There was one 
entrance in the front, and not a single window. To 
the right of this "dugout'' were the stables, built of 
heavy logs and so well made that when the heavy 
doors were locked it would be impossible for any but 
a master cracksman, or professional safe blower, to get 
inside. In this wild and silent place the news of the 
approaching war between the North and South had 
penetrated and, as the daily coach rolled up before the 
cabin door. Bill always inquired anxiously for papers 
and information of the coming insurrection. Person- 
ally he favored the Union cause but, with the good 
sense of a level-headed man, said nothing about his 
sentiments. 

About thirteen miles west of Rock Creek was a 
ranch called "The McCandlas Outfit." The house and 
stables were difficult to find and were well known as a 
place to which many a stolen horse was driven. " Those 
two McCandlas boys, Jack and Jim," Doc. Mills used 
to say, "have been a regular terror to Central Kansas. 



234 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

They've killed more innocent men, an' run off more 
bosses than any ranchers in this here country. There's 
about a dozen ^hangers on' in their outfit, an' when 
boss stealin' gits kinder dull they turn their talents to 
robbin' stage coaches, or murderin' travellers. Ain't 
no one got nerve enough ter tackle 'em?" 

"Wait until they tackle me," Hickok would answer. 
"I'll show 'em a trick or two." 

The McCandlas gang was in favor of the Southern 
Confederacy. Jack McCandlas announced that he had 
been delegated a special agent to collect horses for the 
Southern army and to enlist recruits for the service. 
But it has never yet been discovered by what authority 
he acted. 

An old man named Shapley — "Parson" Shapley he 
was called — hved about five miles from Rock Creek 
Station, and with him was his aged wife. He was a 
kind-hearted soul, but, when rebellion threatened, he 
showed the hot blood of his fighting ancestry and spoke 
his full mind, with the true frankness of a Westerner. 
The McCandlas gang said that he would suffer for his 
free speech and the members of this organization kept 
their word. The " Parson" had come out strong for the 
Union. 

It was a cold day in December. Wild Bill Hickok 
was standing in front of his dugout, when he saw com- 
ing down the road a party of four horsemen. The evil 
face of Jim McCandlas was in front, and this border 
ruffian was leading the white-haired old parson by a 
lariat fastened about his neck. The man of God looked 
subdued, but angry. 



WILD BILL HICKOK 235 

When the little party arrived abreast of the dugout, 
Jim McCandlas sang out, in a tone of authority : 

"Look ahere, Bill Hickok, I mean business. I am 
a-gatherin' up horses for the Secesh service and I want 
yer to jist git those horses in yer stable ready fer me when 
I come back here, which will be about three or four 
o'clock this afternoon. This old hypocritical cuss I've 
got here has been havin' his say a little too free around 
here, and I concluded to take him along with me to 
show him th' necessity of keepin' his mouth shet.'' 

"I notice you've got him," said Bill, as he puffed 
on a corn-cob pipe. 

" Yes, we've got him, all right. Now, what we want 
is you, and we want your horses for the Confederate 
service. Have 'em ready for me when I come back in 
half an hour." Hickok's eyes sparkled, as he made 
answer. 

"When you want these horses you can come and 
take them," he cried. "You'll have no difficulty in 
finding me here. I'll be on deck from now on." 

Bill withdrew into the dugout, while McCandlas — 
with a smothered oath — rode down the trail with his 
men. 

Hickok was alone, for "Doc." Mills had left the 
cabin only a few moments before this conversation, 
and had gone off with a shotgun to shoot quail. In 
the cabin were several weapons, a large rifle, two revolv- 
ers, and two bowie knives. 

"I'll give these fellers an' interestin' time when 
they return," said Bill, as he surveyed the row of guns 
and knives. Then, placing them on a table behind the 



236 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

blanket in the centre of the dugout, he bolted the stable- 
door, locked it so it would have to be battered in, and 
then bolted the door to the dugout. 

At about three in the afternoon the McCandlas boys 
were seen approaching at a smart trot, with eight hench- 
men at their side. They rode up to the stables and 
found the stout doors firmly locked. 

^' Come out of your shell. Bill!'' cried Jim McCandlas, 
"and give up the horses. If you don't do it thar'll be 
a murder at Rock Creek, an' th' Overland Stage Com- 
pany will hev ter hev another driver, I reckon." 

"The first man who opens the stable door will be 
shot, and I'll do it," cried Bill. "If there's any murder- 
ing done at Rock Creek there'll be more than one body 
to bury. You'd better get away from here before there's 
trouble." 

"Ha! ha!" laughed Jim McCandlas. "We'll soon 
fix you, Mister Hickok." 

The ten desperadoes were really highly elated at the 
turn which events had taken, for they wanted to get 
Wild Bill out of the country and here was a good chance 
to put him out of the way forever. 

"Bring out a log!" shouted Jim McCandlas. ''Tie 
your horses to trees, first, and then we'll batter down 
the door." 

It was one against ten. Surely the many would 
crush the lone defender of the cabin in the foothills! 

The log was soon hammering away at the door, and, 
after a dozen sharp blows, the hinges broke, — the panels 
splintered, crashed, and fell in. With a wild yell Jim 
McCandlas jumped over the crumbling, wooden frag- 



WILD BILL HICKOK 237 

ments, a large revolver in one hand, a bowie knife in 
the other. The nine others pressed in from behind. 

As the burly ruffian rushed into the room, a shot 
rang out from Hickok's large rifle and an ounce ball 
ploughed into the heart of the desperado. The bully 
of the Kansas frontier pitched upon his face without a 
murmur. Crack! Crack! Crack! went the shots from 
the pistols of Bill, and at every shot a member of the 
gang went to the floor — stone dead. Each bullet had 
struck a vital point. 

Six of the gang were now upon the defender of the 
dugout, and six revolvers spoke as Hickok seized a 
bowie knife and jabbed it into his nearest enemy. The 
knife did awful execution. But — as it swung back for 
another lunge — one of the desperadoes struck Bill over 
the head and knocked him backward, clean across the 
table. Jack McCandlas was on him in an instant and, 
with his knife uplifted, was aiming a blow at the heart 
of his victim, when Bill shoved a pistol into his breast, 
and fired. The knife fell upon the table, McCandlas 
trembled for a moment, then, with the chill of death 
upon him, dropped dead upon the floor. 

The defender of the dugout had been struck by 
several bullets, but he had not been crippled. Leap- 
hig to his feet, he slashed right and left with his bowie 
knife, striking down two other desperadoes who attacked 
him. The floor was red with blood. All but four of 
the McCandlas gang were dead, and of these four two 
were desperately wounded. 

"We can't kill this feller," cried an outlaw. "Tm 
going to make a break for it!'' 



238 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

Suiting the action to the words, he turned and 
ran. All followed. 

The two uninjured desperadoes gained their horses, 
and, mounting, got away. One of the injured men 
ran down the hillside to his horse, but was so badly 
wounded that he could not mount. The other came 
quickly after him, and was disappearing in a gully 
as "Doc.'' Mills ran up with his shotgun. 

"Quick! Give me your gun!" shouted Hickok 
to him and, seizing the loaded piece, he killed the 
fleeing member of the famous gang. 

The wounded desperado, who could not mount, 
managed to get away to a neighboring town, where he 
died soon afterwards of his terrible injuries. Thus, 
one man had killed seven attackers and had won the 
most desperate frontier fight in the annals of the border. 

But what of the valiant Hickok? 

The "nervy'' fighter had kept his feet only under 
the excitement of battle; now — weak from loss of 
blood — he collapsed and was carried into the dug- 
out by his faithful companion, "Doc." Mills. In an 
hour the western stage rolled up containing six pas- 
sengers, one of whom possessed both medical knowledge 
and a bottle of brandy. With this he revived the 
defender of the lone hut on the hillside, and upon ex- 
amining him found that he had a fracture of the skull ; 
three terrible gashes in the breast; his left forearm was 
cut through to the bone; four bullets were in his body; 
one was in his left hip, and two through the fleshy part 
of his right leg. His right cheek was wide open, and 
his forehead was bare of flesh. Such was the awful 



WILD BILL HICKOK 239 

condition of the winner of this thrilHng battle. Is it 
any wonder that it took him six months to get 
well?* 

The frontier soon rang with the name of Wild Bill 
— the greatest fighter that ever made a record — the 
destroyer of the McCandlas gang and marvellous shot. 
It reached General John C. Fremont, in command at 
Fort Leavenworth, and, in a very short time a message 
arrived from this general offering Wild Bill the position 
of brigade wagon master in his army which was shortly 
to operate against the Confederates. Wild Bill promptly 
accepted, and soon was in the midst of the hardest 
kind of warfare. Here is how he looked at this time 
of his career: 

In person he was about six feet one in height, 
straight as the straightest of the red warriors of the 
plains. Broad shoulders were his; a well-formed chest 
and limbs; and a face strikingly handsome. He had 
a sharp, clear, blue eye, which stared you straight in 
the face when in conversation; a finely shaped nose 
inclined to be aquiline; a well-turned mouth and lips 
partly concealed by a handsome moustache. His 
hair and complexion were those of a perfect blonde. 
The former was worn in uncut ringlets falling carelessly 
over his powerfully formed shoulders. Add to this 
figure a costume blending the immaculate neatness 
of the dandy with the extravagant style of the fron- 
tiersman, and you have Wild Bill, the most famous 
shot on the plains. 

*From Wild Bill's own recital of fight as reported by James 
William Buel. 



240 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

General George A. Custer, who lost his life at the 
battle of the Little Big Horn, has said of him: 

"Whether on foot or on horseback, he was one 
of the most perfect types of physical manhood I ever 
saw. Of his courage there could be no question. His 
skill in the use of the rifle and pistol was unerring. 
His deportment was entirely free from all bluster or 
bravado. He never spoke of himself unless requested 
to do so. His conversation never bordered upon the 
vulgar or blasphemous. 

"His influence among the frontiersmen was un- 
bounded; his word was law; and many are the personal 
quarrels and disturbances which he has checked among 
his comrades by the simple announcement that Hhis 
has gone far enough,' if need be, followed by the ominous 
warning that, if persisted in, the quarreler 'must settle 
with me.' 

"Wild Bill always carried two handsome, ivory- 
handed revolvers of the large size. He was never 
seen without them. I have a personal knowledge of 
at least half a dozen men whom he has at various times 
killed, others have been severely wounded, — yet he 
always escaped unliurt in every encounter." 

Such was the appearance of this typical frontiers- 
man. His adventures were many, and those during 
the Civil War were most numerous and exciting. I 
will narrate only a few of them, for to tell them all 
would take a good-sized volume. 

He was ordered one day to conduct a provision 
train from Fort Leavenworth to Sedalia, Missouri, 
and on the third day out suddenly a crowd of Con- 



WILD BILL HICKOK 241 

federates surrounded the vehicles. liike cowards, all 
of the men under Wild Bill surrendered without resist- 
ance. With the famous gun fighter it was different. 

This fearless man opened fire, single handed, and 
turned his horse towards Kansas City to make a break 
for freedom. Fifty of the Confederate horsemen fol- 
lowed and soon there was a thrilling race for liberty. 

For several miles the chase continued, while the 
zip, zip of leaden bullets whizzed dangerously close 
to the head of the retreating Wild Bill. Suddenly he 
turned in his saddle and pulled the trigger of his pistol. 
One of his pursuers fell from his horse. Another shot 
and he had emptied a second saddle. Three more, 
and he had stretched upon the sod as many more of 
the most ambitious of his followers. Then, realizing 
that this fugitive was no ordinary "Yank," the Con- 
federates wheeled and withdrew. "By George," said 
one, "that fellow can shoot straighter on horseback 
than any one that I ever saw." 

When Bill rode into Kansas City he found a con- 
siderable force there. 

"Come, men," he shouted, "my provision train 
has just been captured, but with your assistance, 
I can soon get it back again. To horse! and we'll show 
these Johnny Rebs what the despised Yanks can do." 

"Hurrah!" shouted the soldiers. "Lead us on, 
Wild Bill, and we'll soon show these fellows that we 
can ride and fight as well as they." 

Immediately leaping upon their horses, two com- 
panies of cavalry rode out with Wild Bill and hurried 
back on the trail. Within fifteen miles of the place 



242 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

where the Confederates were first met, they were again 
discovered and, speedily closing up, the Yankee cavalry- 
men charged the enemy, with Wild Bill at their head. 
"I've been dishonored by the loss of my train,'' he 
had said. "Let me at them in the front rank." 

The fight was a short one. Taken by surprise, 
the Confederates speedily scattered, leaving the provi- 
sion train in the hands of the Yankee soldiers. In 
triumph Wild Bill conducted the wagons into Sedalia, 
and here he was greeted with the loud cheers of the 
Union sympathizers. "Bully for Wild Bill," they 
cried. " He's a soldier who ought to command a cavalry 
column. Hurrah for the Wild Man of the West!" 

Shortly after this affair the famous battle of Pea 
Ridge was fought (March 6th, 7th, and 8th, 1862) 
between the Union commander Curtis and the Con- 
federate chieftains Price and McCullogh. As the 
battle commenced, a captain said to the well-known 
marksman : 

"Wild Bill, you are a fine shot. I need you as a 
sharpshooter. Therefore, place yourself on that hill 
overlooking Cross Timber Hollow and pick off all the 
Confederates that you can, for we must win this 
battle." 

"All right," replied the frontiersman. "Give me 
a chance and I'll show that I am a good sharpshooter." 

Crawling to the protection of a large log, Wild Bill 
soon began to fire at the enemy. For four hours he 
lay in this place, shooting repeatedly at the men in 
gray, and soon the Confederates realized that they had 
a skilled marksman against them. By actual count 



WILD BILL HICKOK 243 

this famous shot killed thirty-five of the enemy, in- 
cluding General McCullogh. 

"This sharpshooter behind that log is getting en- 
tirely too active/' cried a Confederate general. " Charge 
up that hill and dislodge the man!" 

The skirmishers in gray were only too willing to 
make a rush for this fellow with the accurate aim. 
With a wild cheer they began to charge up the hill 
where Wild Bill was crouching behind the protecting 
log. They fired as they ran, and so rapidly that the 
log in front of Wild Bill soon looked like a pepper box. 
It seemed as if the sharpshooter would easily be captured. 

"To the rescue of Wild Bill,'' cried a Yankee lieu- 
tenant, at this juncture. "Let us save our comrade!" 

As he ceased, a hundred men followed him and, 
charging from the rear of Wild Bill's position, were 
soon in a desperate hand-to-hand struggle with the 
advancing Confederates. The fight was desperate, 
but in the melee Wild Bill withdrew with his own 
men, and thus safely escaped into the Union lines. 

Shortly after this affair. General Curtis sent for the 
accurate marksman, and said to him: 

" Wild Bill, you are a good shot and a reliable man. 
For this reason I am going to send you into the Con- 
federate lines as a spy. I want to know the intentions 
of the Confederate general, and also how many men 
he has with him. Here is a fine horse. Use him and 
bring me the news which I wish to know." 

"All right," replied the willing frontiersman, and 
it was not many hours before he was making a wide 
detour around the Confederate army. 



244 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

Assuming the name of Bill Barnes, Wild Bill rode 
through Kansas and Indian Territory, entered Ark- 
ansas, and enlisted in a Confederate company of 
mounted rangers. General Price had joined General 
Shelby with a huge force, and between them they 
hoped to crush the advancing Unionists. The riders 
whom Wild Bill had joined soon took up a position on 
the left flank of General Price's troops on Elk River, 
where it was decided to make a stand against General 
Curtis, who was rapidly moving forward. Most for- 
tunately for the spy, he was appointed orderly to 
General Price, himself. 

It was not long before the pickets of both armies 
had begun skirmishing and, separated by only a nar- 
row creek, lay ready to grapple in the deadly embrace 
of a battle. Wild Bill grew anxious, for he knew that 
General Curtis was expecting to hear from him. "I 
must reach the Union lines,'' said he, "before this 
battle takes place, and must give my general the valu- 
able information that I have gathered." 

Next morning fortune favored this desperate and 
daring adventurer. General Price called him to his 
headquarters, giving him some dispatches to deliver 
to General Shelby. It was the moment for which he 
had waited, and he determined to ride into the Union 
lines. 

In his own company was a large, lean desperado 
from Arkansas, called Jake Lawson, who was very 
proud of boasting of his own courage and ability to 
shoot with both rifle and revolver. Wild Bill deter- 
mined to test the mettle of this boaster, so he called 



WILD BILL HICKOK 245 

his men together and, addressing Lawson, said in 
loud tones: 

"See here, Jake, let's have some fun. These men 
in our company have never been under fire, so sup- 
pose you and I give them a little example of real pluck 
in order to encourage them for tomorrow's battle." 

"Well! Well!" replied Lawson. "What do you 
want to do now? Do you want to have a fight with 
me?" 

"Oh, no," Bill answered, smiling, "nothing as bad 
as that. But I'll test your courage with a less dangerous 
experiment. I'll wager my horse against yours that 
I can ride closer to the enemy's line than you, yourself, 
can." 

Lawson looked at Wild Bill for a moment, and 
then walked into his tent, sa5dng: 

"Pooh! Pooh! That's a fool proposition." But 
a laugh from the other members of the company brought 
him out again. 

"What's the matter with your nerve?" asked Bill. 
"You aren't afraid, are you, Jake?" 

"No! I'm not afeerd," Lawson replied, "but 
what's the use of trying such nonsense?" 

"None at all," answered the challenger. "If you 
haven't got the sand to accept the challenge, why, step 
out and admit yourself to be a coward. I wanted to 
see the real color of your character, that's all." 

At this reply, all of the rangers began to laugh, 
and several made the remark that Jake Lawson was a 
pretty poor sort of a soldier. This nettled the rough 
fellow and, taking his horse from the picket line, he 



246 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

soon rode up to Wild Bill and started to gallop towards 
the Union lines. 

"Come on!" cried Wild Bill as, putting spurs to 
his mount, he dashed down the creek which lay be- 
tween the two armies, with Lawson beside him. 

As soon as the Union pickets saw the two riders 
coming towards their line they began to fire. The 
Confederate pickets replied and, as the two men gal- 
loped forward, the bullets fairly hailed about their 
heads. Wild Bill pressed to the bank of the creek, 
and then cried out in a loud voice, 

"Yanks! Hold your fire! I'm Wild Bill trying 
to get into my own lines and back to my own friends!'' 

As these words rang out, his companion realized 
that he was riding with one of the well-known scouts 
of the West, and its best marksman and gun fighter. 

"Here!" he cried. "You must stop and come 
back with me to our own lines." 

As he spoke, he drew his pistol. But he was too 
late for the lightning fingers of the ever-ready Wild 
Bill. In a second this remarkable gun fighter had 
drawn his own pistol, levelled it at the head of the 
Confederate, and had fired. The man in gray instantly 
fell into the water and, as he slipped from the back of 
his steed, the reins of the galloping and frightened 
animal were seized by the nimble-fingered Wild Bill. 
Bullets zipped around the head of the spy in furious 
volleys but, spurring on his willing steed, the des- 
perate man pressed on towards the other shore, where 
he could hear the wild cheers of his own friends. In 
a few moments he was scrambling up the bank, while 



WILD BILL HICKOK 247 

his companions-in-arms were rapidly firing at the 
Confederate pickets. His fearless feat had met with 
perfect success. 

The dispatches were placed in the hands of General 
Curtis, and they were so valuable that it led to a re- 
disposition of the Union force and retreat of the Con- 
federates, without a battle. Exciting enough, you 
say, but this was not the only adventure of the re- 
markable spy. A short time afterwards he was again 
sent into the Confederate lines and had an experience 
that was far more thrilling than this hair-breadth 
escape. 

"I want you to go and see what the Confederates 
are doing,'' said General Curtis to him, not long after- 
wards. "Stay as long as you like, but be sure and 
bring me accurate information.'^ 

"General," replied Wild Bill, "I shall bring you 
all that you wish for." 

That night he started south, making a wide detour 
around the Southern army. Finding a stray jackass 
he mounted him, and dressing himself like a tattered 
farmer approached the Confederate forces. With an 
old shotgun over one shoulder, he ambled along to 
Pine Bluff, where a division of Van Dorn's army was 
stationed. He trotted among the troops, then, finding 
headquarters, rode up and presented himself to a re- 
cruiting sergeant. 

"Well, sir," cried the Confederate, as he burst into 
laughter, " where the deuce did you blow in from?" 

Bill scratched his head. "I've got a leetle cabin 
up heah in the Ozarks whar I've been a-livin' with this 



248 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

heah jackass an' Billy Bowlegs fer nigh on ter tli' las' 
twenty year/' he drawled. 

"Ah, ha!" said the sergeant. "And who may 
Bowlegs be, my fine scarecrow?" 

Wild Bill smiled broadly. "Why, look ahere, 
Mister," he answered. "Ain't ye never heard o' 
Billy Bowlegs, th' greatest wildcat an' bear killer in 
th' whole uv Arkinsaw? Billy Bowlegs is my yaller 
dawg, an' th' finest dawg, by gum, in th' hull of this 
kentry. Ef you'd seen him tackle a catermount upon 
Huckleberry Hill two weeks ergo — a catermount 
bigger'n my jackass — you'd hev bet th' last dollar 
in yer purse thet he could whip anything thet ever 
wore hair or gnawed er bone. You see, sergint, the 
neighborhood's been a-losin' lots o' pigs an' calves for 
a long time, though pigs an' calves be scarce articles 
on th' hill, an' 

"Well, never mind that cur of yours," the sergeant 
growled. "We've no time, now, to listen to your 
palaver about yellow curs, even though yours may be 
the best scrapper in all of this here country. We want 
men just now, who can fight just like your dog. Do 
you think that you could fight like this here Billy 
Bowlegs, especially if we should set you on a drove of 
Yankees?" 

"I think I mought," drawled Wild Bill, "specially 
ef you'll furnish me with ammernition. I've got plenty 
uv percussion caps jist now, but my powder an' shot 
hez run durned low." 

At this remark, all broke into loud laughter. But 
Bill stood with his mouth wide open and his arms 



WILD BILL HICKOK 249 

hanging carelessly by his side, as if he didn't have 
sense enough to come indoors when it rained. 

"Why, —you confounded idiot," shouted the ser- 
geant, at last. "You don't suppose that our soldiers 
fight with shotguns like that antiquated piece of yours, 
do you?" 

Wild Bill opened his eyes in apparent wonder. 
"Of course I do," said he. "Ain't shotguns better'n 
squirrel rifles by a durned sight?" 

"Ha! ha!" laughed the soldier. "You're a poor 
sort of a fellow, but I'll enlist you. What's your name?" 
"Ozark Pete." 

"All right, you can begin to learn the manual of 
arms and can try to be a soldier, although I have small 
hopes of ever making you one." 

So Bill was appointed to Company I, under a Cap- 
tain Leverson. 

The Confederates soon moved towards the army 
under General Curtis and Bill continued to amuse the 
soldiers with his eccentric remarks. But, unfortun- 
ately for him, there was a corporal in a nearby com- 
pany who began to suspect the real character of the 
would-be Confederate. Finally this fellow became 
satisfied that the tattered recruit was no other than 
Wild Bill, the famous gun fighter and spy. He re- 
ported his discovery to his conmianding ofl^cer and, 
when near the Union army, Bill was surrounded by 
twelve men who soon disarmed and bound him. "I 
reckon that I am caught this time," said Wild Bill 
to himself, "but being lucky I may yet get out." 
Next morning the captured spy was tried by court 



250 FMIOUS SCOUTS 

martial and sentenced to be shot in a few days. He 
was seized; his arms were securely bound, and he was 
taken to a small log hut where a guard was stationed 
to watch him closely as they knew that he was a keen 
and cunning man. ''I'll get out of this, yet,'' said 
Wild Bill to himself. "See if I don't. There's only 
one man watching me and I'll soon fix him." 

That night a dreadful rain storm arose and Bill's 
guard, overcome by the fatigue of the long day's march, 
sat down and soon fell into a doze. It was the op- 
portunity for which Bill had long waited. Anxiously 
he gazed about for something with which to loosen the 
ropes which were tied about his hands. At three in 
the morning he saw, protruding from the side of the 
hut, a rough piece of iron to which a lantern had been 
attached. He crept towards it, and, rubbing the rope 
across the iron, soon loosened it considerably. With 
beating heart he worked on, and finally the cords 
snapped, — he was free! 

He did not stop for a moment. Seizing the old 
piece of metal, he crept upon the slumbering guards- 
man and, leaping upon him like a panther, had soon 
knocked him senseless with one quick blow. Quickly 
stripping the prostrate figure of its coat and hat, he 
grabbed his musket and cartridge box and, stealing 
out into the darkness, soon wormed a way through the 
Confederate pickets to the army of General Curtis. 
He was received with shouts of welcome, while the 
cries of "Long live Wild Bill!" came to the ears of the 
furthermost Southern pickets, warning them that the 
keenest scout in the Yankee army had again given 



WILD BILL HICKOK 251 

them the slip. "That there feller is leagued with the 
Devil, himself/' said many of Van Dorn's men. "It 
is impossible to capture and keep such a human eel.'' 

Shortly after this General Curtis again asked Bill 
to enter the Confederate lines, but the now famous 
scout refused. 

"General," he said, "I've been there twice and 
many of the Rebs know me. I'll scout for you all 
you want but I'll never enter the lines agin. It means 
sure death for me, and I want to live awhile yet." 

General Curtis did not insist upon another spying 
expedition and was soon busy in driving Price and 
Shelby out of Missouri, establishing himself at Fort 
Leavenworth, and watching the swarms of guerillas 
who continued to harass his wagon trains. He was 
thus engaged, when in February a chief called Man- 
to-yu-kee (Conquering Bear), one of the subchiefs 
among the Sioux Indians, came to the fort and said, 
"Five hundred Choctaw warriors are camped ten miles 
west of Lawrence, on the Kaw River. You must 
look out, or they will attack and massaore the whites." 

General Curtis, naturally, was alarmed, and send- 
ing for Wild Bill, asked, 

"What course of action would you advise? You 
are well acquainted with the Indians and their ways." 

"The Indian is a mighty uncertain animal," replied 
the scout. "Those who profess the greatest friend- 
ship are frequently the most deadly enemies to the 
whites. I'll tell you my own idea. You send me 
back to the Sioux camp with this chief, and, before I 
return, you can depend upon it that I will know how 



252 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

many Choctaws are near Lawrence, and what they 
are up to. If I'm not back here in four days, just put 
it down that I have dropped my scalp." 

"I think that you are risking your hfe, unless you 
take two or three hundred men with you," said Curtis. 
"If you need an escort, I can let you have it." 

"I don't want any one," answered Bill. "I will 
go with Conquering Bear and, if he deceives me, then 
he will meet with trouble. I will leave tomorrow 
on my horse Black Nell." 

"I hope for your safe return but I doubt it," said 
General Curtis as he turned away. 

As Bill jogged on with Conquering Bear, he turned 
to his red companion, saying: 

"I shall go with you directly to your people. I 
shall expect you to guide me to the hostile camp, but 
remember, if you deceive me in the slightest way, 
one of us will have to die." 

"It shall be as you say, pale face," grunted Con- 
quering Bear. 

On the following day, the two travellers reached 
the camp of the Choctaws, and, passing through it in 
order to see another small camp, they rode on until 
twilight. Just as it became fairly dark. Conquering 
Bear gave a wild war-whoop, and, as he concluded, 
a large force of redskins rushed in upon Wild Bill from 
every side. He had been ambuscaded. 

But luck was ever with the famous plainsman, 
and it grew very dark, so dark that the red men ran 
into each other by mistake. It was just what the scout 
wished for and, giving the Indian whoop and other 



WILD BILL HICKOK 253 

redskin signals, which he well knew, he succeeded in 
eluding his pursuers and in galloping off in the dark- 
ness upon his faithful mare. In four days' time he 
was back in the camp of General Curtis. 

"I want leave of absence for a week," said he. 
''I'm going to get even with that rascally Conquering 
Bear, or die in the attempt.'' 

"You can go," remarked the general, smiling. 

Not many days later. Bill reached Lawrence, Kan- 
sas, and began to make active endeavors to get a per- 
sonal meeting with the traitorous Conquering Bear. 
As he could speak the Sioux language he soon found a 
young warrior from the tribe of the enemy, whom he 
treated liberally to food and drink, and got him to take 
a message to the chief, which read: 

"Meet me two miles from the village and I will 
give you a present. I want to talk with you. 

Musqua — a Friend." 

Word came back that Conquering Bear would be 
present, and the vengeful scout was overjoyed. 

Setting out for the meeting place, Wild Bill hid in 
the thicket and, at the time appointed, was much over- 
joyed to see the approach of his enemy. When the red 
man was within six paces, the frontiersman leaped 
from his hiding place and, as tlie chief saw who con- 
fronted him, his face assumed an expression of abject 
fear. He drew back, as if to run away. 

"Stop!" shouted Wild Bill in the Sioux language. 
"You must fight me," and, drawing two pistols from 
his belt, he threw one to the redskin. 

Conquering Bear had regained his composure. 



254 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

"I no fight with pistols/' said he. "Give me the big 
knife." 

In a second the scout had tossed him a bowie 
knife. "Come on!" he cried, "fight me in this circle," 
and, leaning down, he drew a ring ten feet in diameter, 
in the leaves. The Indian watched him and did not 
stir. 

"Here, you coward!" again shouted the scout, 
''unless you give me satisfaction for your traitorous 
conduct when you had me in your power, I will shoot 
you down without a qualm of conscience!" 

This roused the red man and, leaping inside the 
imaginary circle with his knife in his right hand, he 
made a savage lunge at the irate soldier-of-fortune. 
The scout dodged the blow and seized his opponent 
by the waist, winding his leg about him as he did so. 
Each kept the knife of the other from making a thrust, 
and thus — in deadly embrace — they struggled back 
and forth in a circle. Suddenly Wild Bill made a 
savage lunge and cut the redskin in the back, while 
the Indian struck him in the shoulder, opening a deep 
and dangerous gash. Both struggled desperately. The 
red man was weakening fast and, realizing that he must 
make one quick blow to dispatch his antagonist, he 
aimed a last, despairing thrust at the frontiersman. 
It was skillfully parried. In a second the dexterous 
arm of the ranger had driven his own blade into the 
neck of the Indian. With a convulsive twinge, the 
redskin fell upon his face, burying his tightly clutched 
knife in the ground to the hilt. 

The young Indian boy immediately ran to the 



WILD BILL HICKOK 255 

bleeding scout and bandaged his wounds in order to 
stop the flow of blood. Supporting the weakened 
frontiersman, the youth now staggered back to Law- 
rence, where Bill engaged a wagon to carry him to a 
physician. The Indian boy was now paid a handsome 
sum, and he was taken to Kansas City by the weakened 
fighter, who gave him many presents before he finally 
sent him back to the Sioux reservation on the Niobrara 
River. The daring plainsman's wound was a bad 
one and, for years afterwards, he suffered great pain 
and annoyance from it. 

The remaining days of Wild Bill's life were filled 
with hazardous events and personal encounters which 
the average person will scarcely believe. One must 
remember that the country in which this famous shot 
resided was filled with lawless characters who would 
shoot upon the slightest provocation. A man had to 
use the pistol as a means of self-protection and, al- 
though not of a quarrelsome disposition, Wild Bill 
was in many serious affairs. 

After a successful duel with a man named Tutt, 
he went trapping in Nebraska and, having reached 
the little town of Jefferson one day, entered a restau- 
rant where he found a number of cowboys who had 
just been paid off. 

"See here, stranger, what air you doin' in these 
here diggins?" said a stout fellow in buckskin. 

"Yes," shouted another. "You've got to treat 
all of us afore you go away." 

As he spoke, Wild Bill was in the act of drinking 
some wine, and raising the glass to his lips. At this 



256 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

particular moment, a herder gave him a shove, so that 
he fell forward and the liquid was splashed over his 
face. Without uttering a word, the incensed frontiers- 
man wheeled around and struck the fellow a blow 
which sent him senseless into a corner. 

"You've got to fight, now/' yelled the herders, 
in unison. 

Bill was apparently delighted. "All right," he 
cried. " Til fight all four of you at either five or fifteen 
paces.'' 

" Come on," cried one of the men. " The restaurant 
keeper will mark off the proper distance." 

In a few moments all were outside, standing fifteen 
paces from each other. 

"Are you ready?" cried the umpire. "One, two, 
three. Fire!" 

Before the last word had died on his lips. Wild 
Bill's revolver had spoken. He had killed the man 
on his left. But, as he fired, so did the cowboys. 
Crack! spoke their eager guns and the daring scout 
felt a twinge of pain in his right shoulder. His arm 
dropped uselessly to his side. 

In an instant Bill's revolver was shifted to his 
other hand, and he dropped the three remaining cow- 
boys with three accurate shots. Two only were 
killed outright. One was struck in the jaw^ but, in 
1878, was still living in Kansas City, where he often 
spoke with awe of the wonderful shooting ability of 
the lightning-fingered Wild Bill. 

In spite of this victory, the remarkable feat gave 
Bill entirely too much prominence for his own liking. 



WILD BILL HICKOK 257 

so he moved further west and joined an expedition 
of United States troops against the Cheyennes, under 
Black Kettle, which was led by General Custer.* He 
was present at the battle of the Wichita, and, not long 
afterwards, was appointed sheriff of Hays City, one of 
the liveliest and most lawless towns upon the frontier. 
Here he was in many shooting scrapes, where his re- 
markable quickness with the pistol was always able 
to make him winner of any exchange of bullets. And 
these affairs were of daily occurrence. 

Directly after his appointment, he was called upon 
to put out of the way one of the most noted desperadoes 
on the border — Jack Strawhan — who had shot half 
a dozen men and who openly boasted that he could 
"clean out'' the newly appointed marshal of Hays 
City. Learning that Wild Bill was in town, the noted 
bandit paid a special visit to that place, stating that 
he would soon "shoot up Mister Wild Bill/' — a boast 
which reached the ears of his intended victim in a very 
few hours. "I'm ready for him at any moment," 
said the famous gunfighter. 

It was the nineteenth day of October, 1869. As 
Wild Bill, the town marshal, leaned against the long 
bar in Tommy Drum's restaurant, his keen eye saw 
the burly form of Strawhan as he entered the room 
by a side door. The marshal of Hays City apparently 
took no notice of his enemy but, out of the corner of 
his quick eye, he watched every movement of his boast- 
ful antagonist. 

Strawhan walked carelessly towards the bar in an 

*See "Famous Cavalry Leaders." 



258 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

indifferent manner. When within ten feet of his rival, 
he halted. Bill did not move, but that ever watchful 
eye of his was on the figure of the crafty desperado. 
A second more, and Strawhan jerked a heavy pistol 
from his hip pocket and raised it in the direction of 
the marshal. Crack! The town bully was seen to 
reel and fall and, as the startled bystanders gazed at 
Wild Bill, they saw that he had instantaneously drawn 
a small derringer from his pocket, the bullet from which 
had entered the right eye of the vindictive Strawhan. 
Without paying the slightest attention to the dying 
man, Bill cried out, "Step up, boys, it's my turn to 
treat! Come on! None of you can refuse the invita- 
tion of the marshal!'' And no one did. 

But Wild Bill's tenure of office was to be short. 
A fight with some soldiers, shortly afterwards, made 
him so unpopular that he was forced to fly from Hays 
City for other parts. Not many weeks later he was 
appointed marshal of Abilene, Kansas, a town full of 
gamblers, toughs, and desperadoes of all kinds. His 
encounters here were numerous, but owing to his 
quickness with the pistol he came unscratched through 
every trial of arms, and was soon respected by all the 
rougher element of the place. 

America has had many marksmen, but there can 
be no question that Wild Bill was the most expert 
pistol shot which that country, or any other, ever 
produced. He was gifted by nature with steady nerves 
and a quick eye, and his natural ability to use the rifle 
and revolver with great accuracy was improved by 
years of persistent practice. 



WILD BILL HICKOK 259 

Among the great number of fancy shots which this 
wonderful scout was accustomed to make in order to 
amuse his friends, was one of driving the cork through 
the neck of a bottle, and knocking the bottom out 
without breaking the neck itself. This shot was made 
at a distance of thirty paces (90 feet) and it is said 
by contemporaries that he never missed. In order 
to make a little money he would often get up a shooting 
match and then take bets of from one to ten dollars 
that he could shoot a hole through a silver dime at the 
distance of ten paces, — thirty feet. This was ap- 
parently so impossible that there was seldom any dif- 
ficulty in getting his friends to make wagers, until he 
proved that he could hit the mark nine times out of 
ten. The money was always placed so that the sun's 
rays would strike the surface, thus presenting a bril- 
liant and shining target. 

A writer says: ^'At his request, one day, in order 
to prove his ability at shooting, I tossed a tomato can 
about fifteen feet into the air, both of Wild Bill's pistols 
being in his belt when it left my hand. He drew one 
of them and fired two bullets through the tin before 
it struck the ground. Then he followed it along, 
firing as he went until both weapons were empty. 
You have heard the expression, 'quick as lightning.' 
Well,— that will describe Wild BUI." 

When in Cheyenne, Wyoming, after his tenure of 
office at Abilene had expired, a rough-looking fellow 
named Cole turned up, who told some of the towns- 
people, "I've come one thousand miles to kill Wild 
Bill. I'll lay for him, for he shot my brother. When 



260 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

he comes to town well see who's handiest with their 
pistols.'' 

Bill was told of this remark and was ready. One 
day, as he was sitting in a restaurant, his attention was 
diverted by two strangers who entered and walked 
heavily about the place, casting evil glances at the 
scout. Instantly the ex-marshal recognized a similarity 
between the stranger's features and those of the man 
whom he had been forced to put out of the way at 
Abilene, and he realized that he was in danger, for his 
only weapon was a small, double-barrelled pistol which 
had been presented to him by his friend Buffalo Bill. 
It held but a single cartridge. 

A large looking-glass was in front and, as Bill gazed 
at it, he could see the features of the two men and 
could keep himself prepared for an emergency. By 
a preconcerted signal, the strangers turned and drew 
their pistols at the same instant, but Bill was too quick 
for them. With the one shot which his revolver held, 
he killed Cole, and threw his empty pistol with such 
force in the face of the second enemy that he knocked 
the fellow's hands up into the air. Then, leaping 
forward, he threw his leg around the tottering man, 
tripping him up and shoving him backwards with such 
force that he was knocked unconscious, and the des- 
perate situation had passed. Bill was arrested but 
released on a verdict of "self-defense." 

This was but one of many gun-fighting encounters 
of almost monthly occurrence. It is only natural, 
then, that such a daring, bold, adventurous and reckless 
man should come to a tragic end. This was inevitable. 



WILD BILL HICKOK 261 

Attracted by the finding of gold in Dakota, Bill 
moved to Deadwood in 1876, in order to prospect for 
the yellow metal. While here, he whiled away his 
idle moments in games of poker and, upon one oc- 
casion, won a great deal of money from a miner called 
Jack McCall. On the day following this fortunate 
affair, the famous scout was seated at a table playing 
cards with three companions, when McCall entered 
the room and, sneaking behind him, fired a pistol 
close to his head. The hero of a hundred battles with 
the revolver fell forward — dead — while the sneak- 
ing murderer was soon captured, tried, and hung. So 
fell the most celebrated gun fighter of the wild and 
careless days of the opening of the West. He died as 
all expected that he would, by the shot of an enemy. 

In the pine-clad hills near the rough little town, 
faithful companions buried the form of this daring 
man of the plains and, upon a marble headstone, 
carved the following touching inscription: 

"Wild Bill (J. B. Hickok) 

"Killed by the assassin, Jack McCall, in Deadwood, 

August 2nd, 1876. Pard, we will meet again in the 

Happy Hunting Grounds, to part no more. Good-bye. 

"Colorado Charley.^' 

The papers were filled with accounts of his life 
and numerous desperate encounters; while a poem, 
written by the poet scout — Captain Jack Crawford — 
was freely circulated and much admired by the rough 
friends of this adventurous scout, Indian fighter, and 
frontiersman. Here it is. It is a true song of the West : 



262 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

WILD BILL'S GRAVE. 
By His Pard; Captain Jack. 

On the side of the hill between Whitewood and Dead- 
wood, 

At the foot of a pine stump, there lies a lone grave, 
Environed with rocks, and with pine trees and redwood, 

Where the wild roses bloom o'er the breast of the brave. 

A mantle of brushwood the greensward encloses; 

The green boughs are waving far up overhead; 
While, under the sod and the flow'rets, reposes 

The brave and the dead. 

Did I know him in life? Yes, as brother knows brother, 
I knew him and loved him — 'twas all I could give. 

My love. But the fact is, we loved one another. 
And either would die that the other might live. 

Rough in his ways? Yes, but kind and good hearted; 

There wasn't a flaw in the heart of Wild Bill, 
And well I remember the day that he started 

That graveyard on top of the hill. 

A good scout? I reckon there wasn't his equal. 

Both Fremont and Custer could vouch for that fact. 

Quick as chain-lightning with rifle or pistol — 
And Custer said, " Bill never hacked!'^ 

He called me his " kid" — Buffalo Bill was his " boy" — 
And, in fact, he knew more than us both: 



WILD BILL HICKOK 263 

And, though we have shared both in sorrow and joy, 
He spoke nary an oath. 

And now let me show you the good that was in him — 
The letters he wrote to his Agnes — his wife. 

Wliy, a look or a smile, one kind word could win him. 
Hear part of this letter — the last of his life: 

"Agnes Darling: If such should be that we never 
meet again, while firing my last shot I will gently 
breathe the name of my wife — my Agnes — and, with 
a kind wish even for my enemies, I will make the plunge 
and try to swim to the other shore.'' 

Oh, charity! come fling your mantle about him, 
Judge him not harshly — he sleeps 'neath the sod; 

Custer, brave Custer! was lonely without him, 
Even with God. 



CAPTAIN D. L. PAYNE: THE CIMARRON 
SCOUT 

IN the year 1870 a tall, stalwart frontiersman 
was walking down the main street of a small 
town in the territory of Oklahoma. As he 
strode along, a Cheyenne warrior, who was slouching 
in a doorway, turned to another redskin, saying: 

"Ugh! You look out for him. Him Cimarron 
scout. Him Big Thunder with the shooting stick!'' 

The other warrior gazed at the strong figure, and 
scowled, for the red man bore no love to Captain D. L. 
Payne, the Cimarron scout. "Ugh!" said he. "We 
get him yet." 

Through the vast stretches of wild country in the 
southwestern portion of the then undeveloped West 
ran the river Cimarron. Near by were the homes of 
the Cheyennes, Arapahoes, Kiowas and Navajoes. These 
redskins were jealous of the advancing hordes of white 
men and were determined to stop their immigration into 
the fertile country of the Southwest. It was a wide, 
rolling, and vastly fruitful land, and, in the fierce bat- 
tling of the frontier for the possession of it, no man 
took a more active part than Captain D. L. Payne, 
the Cimarron scout, and leader of the advance guard 
of white ci^^lization. 

This frontier hero fought through the Civil War 
with distinction, and — when it was over — could 

264 




CAPTAIN D. L. PAYNE. 



THE CIMARRON SCOUT 265 

not settle down to the prosaic life in the East. In- 
stead of peace and quiet he wanted excitement; so he 
moved to the Kansas frontier where there was plenty 
of it, for the redskins were continually on the war- 
path and men had to be quick with the rifle, the revolver, 
and the dirk. 

In the spring of 1868 this hardy scout was idly 
sauntering about the streets of Jules City, when a 
cowboy dashed madly into the town with his horse 
flecked with foam. ^^ Cimarron ^^ Payne eagerly gazed 
at him and asked him what was the matter. 

"Matter,'' answered the rider. "Matter enough! 
The northern Cheyennes imder Tall Bull have made a 
raid along the Republican River. All the settlers 
have been massacred who had any ranches in that 
section. Two women have been carried off by them 
into captivity. We need every white man in this 
section to join us in punishing th' red varmints." 

"I'm with you," shouted the frontiersman. "Just 
wait until I get my horse, my rifle, and my pack. If 
it's going to be a long campaign, so much the better. 
Work is slack with me now and I welcome the oppor- 
tunity to have another brush with the redskins." 

The cowboy rode on through the village spreading 
the alarm, and soon every able-bodied man in the 
community was making ready to chase the blood- 
thirsty Indians. 

As luck would have it General Custer was command- 
ing a number of government troops in southern Kansas 
at this time. He was anxious to go in pursuit of the 
redskins. But, before he could take any definite action 



266 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

the governor of Kansas sent for Captain Payne to ask 
his advice about chasing the marauders. 

"Captain," said the governor, "what would be your 
advice in this matter? The redskins are strong and 
well armed.'' 

"I would advise the raising of two or three com- 
panies of volunteers who should place themselves 
under the command of General Custer. These should 
be assisted by the government troops.'' 

"I understand that the Indians are strong." 

"Yes. The northern Cheyennes have joined with 
their southern brethren, and by this union there are 
fully one thousand warriors prepared for any move- 
ment which we may undertake." 

The governor looked grave. 

"I will give you orders to enlist from one to two 
hundred men," said he. "Report to General Custer 
at Fort Hays. You can go to Fort Leavenworth and 
get the necessary men and ammunition. I know that 
you will have success. Good-bye." 

The Cimarron scout was not long in going to Leaven- 
worth. In two days' time he had raised a volunteer 
force of one hundred and fifty men. He also collected 
one hundred and seventy-five head of mules for the 
expedition. The volunteers were all men who were 
skilled in the use of the rifle and revolver and they 
were eager to reach the scene of conflict, for many had 
lost friends and relatives in the recent raid. Payne 
was elected captain, and, taking his force to Fort 
Hays, on November 20th, the entire command was 
mounted and started for the land of the redskins. 



THE CIMARRON SCOUT 267 

Custer's soldiers joined them, and, with determination 
and vigor, the band of avengers started for the rippling 
waters of the Cimarron, along the banks of which it 
was reported that the Indians had hidden themselves. 
Governor Crawford, himself, was along, having resigned 
his position as governor of Kansas in order to take 
part in this campaign. He meant business. 

Things did not go any too smoothly with the mem- 
bers of the expedition. Winter was soon upon them 
with bitter rigor. When the soldiers struck the lower 
ridge of the Wichita range and the canon of the Cimar- 
ron, the snow rapidly accumulated and a large number 
of the horses and mules died of exposure. In spite 
of the bitter cold, the command, which numbered 
about twelve hundred men, continued to manoeuvre 
in the Indian territory until February. Then, finding 
it impossible to go further in the snow, the soldiers 
went into camp at a frontier fort for a week. No 
Indians had been seen, nor had their tracks been sighted. 

"Here, Captain Payne,'' said Custer to the famous 
scout, " I want you to take twelve men and look for 
Indian sign. When you find it, come in and report." 

"All right," answered the scout, and in a few hours 
he had selected his men and had left for the South- 
west. 

In a week the sun-tanned frontiersman rode into 
the fort with news of the red men. "The Cheyennes 
have gone towards the salt plains in New Mexico," 
he reported. "It's a rough country but we must get 
after them before they have too good a start." 

The information created great excitement in the 



268 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

camp, and preparations were made for an immediate 
move. On the twelfth of February the force started 
in the direction of the fleeing Cheyennes, into a desert 
spot — one of the most dreary wastes in all the South- 
west. Purposely the Indians had chosen this desert 
to retreat to, hoping to kill off their pursuers by nature's 
forces, and they wellnigh succeeded. Many horses 
died from thirst. Provisions grew scarce. Mules were 
killed and eaten. For seven days the pursuit con- 
tinued over this barren country. 

Finally the banks of the Cimarron River were 
reached and grass was secured for the half-dead pack 
and saddle animals. Prairie chickens and wild turkeys 
were here abundant, and a general hunt soon provis- 
ioned the army for the time. The Indian trail was 
fresher than ever. 

On March 13th an advance scout rode hastily into 
camp. 

"The Cheyennes are camped ahead of us on the 
Red River,'' said he. "They are many and their 
tepees dot the plains." 

"Get ready to attack, men," ordered General Custer. 
"We will soon teach them not to massacre defenseless 
settlers." 

As the troops prepared themselves, suddenly a 
number of redskins were seen approaching, and, holding 
up their hands, showed that they wished to have a 
parley. They soon came in. 

"Ugh! Ugh!" said one — a head chief. "We are 
ten chiefs of the Cheyennes. We would treat with 
you without a fight. I am Roman Nose. Here are 



THE CIMARRON SCOUT 269 

Lone Wolf, Cross Timber, Eagle Chief and Yellow 
Nose/^ 

"Come to camp with us," said Captain Payne, 
who had ridden out to meet them. "Our chief-with- 
the-yellow-hair would speak with you." 

So they walked stolidly into camp. 

When they arrived General Custer immediately 
ordered them to be seized. 

"Tell your waiting tribesmen that if you do not 
give up the two white women whom you have with 
you," said he to an Indian runner, "I will kill all ten 
of your chiefs. Begone!" 

The Indian soon brought back a message. 

"We will return the two women prisoners," it ran. 
"But they are not with us. They are at the Little 
Robe camp, twelve miles below. We wish to drop 
down to this camp tomorrow to get the prisoners, 
and we will return on the day following. Can we not 
go?'' 

"Do not let them go,'* was the advice of Captain 
Payne, the Cimarron scout. "They merely wish to 
escape." 

"I have ten of their chiefs," Custer replied. "As 
long as I hold them they will not kill the women pris- 
oners, nor attempt to get away. They can go." 

But this action was so bitterly opposed by Custer's 
men that there was nearly a mutiny. Several rode 
forward to watch the redskins, and saw them pack 
their baggage, squaws and children on sledges made 
of long poles, and depart for the South. 

"Better move after them," said Captain Payne, 



270 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

next day. " They are shifty critters, these Cheyennes.'' 

"You're right," Custer rephed. "We'll follow them 
and see what's up." So he gave orders for an im- 
mediate pursuit. 

When Little Robe was reached, not a redskin was 
in sight. 

"What did I tell you," said the Cimarron scout. 
"Th' cunning Cheyennes have flown over the country 
like a brood of quails. They're gone, and we ought 
to have fought 'em when we could." 

"We want the captive chiefs to be executed!" 
shouted the soldiers and frontiersmen. "They've 
broken their pledge to deliver over the women prisoners. 
Death to the Cheyenne chiefs!" 

But Custer and Captain Payne had influence enough 
to prevent a massacre. And it was well, for, on the 
day following, a number of scouts rode hastily into 
camp, crying: 

"Indians are lurking about us. They look like 
Cheyennes. Seems as if they're trying to make out 
what we have done with their chiefs." 

General Custer's eyes shone brightly, as he spoke 
to his men. "We'll make preparations to execute the 
ten Cheyennes, at once," he shouted with vigor. "Tie 
ropes around their necks and lead them to yonder tree. 
We'll see what the rascally redskins will do when they 
see from afar that their chiefs are going to be strung 
up." 

Acting upon his words, a platform was soon built 
and placed beneath the tree, while a ring of soldiers 
surrounded the captive chieftains, each with a noose 



THE CIMARRON SCOUT 271 

around his neck. The strategy had the desired effect, 
for, in a few moments, five redskins came galloping 
up to camp. 

"Ugh! Ugh!'' they grunted. "Do not kill our 
brothers. We will give up the pale-face squaws. We 
will have them here, quick.'' 

"All right,'' replied Custer, "but they must be here 
in two and one-half hours. If they are not here then, 
your chiefs shall die." 

The redskins rode off at full speed. "They will 
soon come back," said the Cimarron scout, smiling. 

He was right, for soon a long line of warriors w^as 
seen coming down a defile in the mountains with Mrs. 
Morgan and Miss White (the two captured white women) 
in front, each with a buffalo robe about her. When the 
red men came within a stone's throw of the camp, 
four painted braves approached with the women. 
Walking stolidly up to General Custer, they said: 

"How! How! Chief-with-the-long-hair, here are 
the pale face women. We have done as we prom- 
ised." 

The two women were so overjoyed to get out of the 
hands of the cruel red men that they wept, for they 
had been subjected to the most cruel indignities. 

"Now that we have returned your women," said 
the Indians, " return to us our chiefs." 

"That I will not do," replied Custer, "until all 
of your warriors come into the Reservation and leave 
the warpath." 

The Cheyennes made no answer, but, sullenly de- 
parting, soon made off to the southward with their 



272 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

people. As they left they shook their fists at the 
soldiers, saying, ''We will have revenge!'^ 

''They will join with Tall Bull,'' said a scout, "and 
no doubt attack us in overwhelming numbers. We 
must be prepared." 

General Custer, himself, seemed to know the danger, 
and, calling Captain Payne to him, said: 

"Captain, we have got to send word to Fort 
Hays at once. Some one must act as courier to notify 
our friends of our position. Some one must tell the 
home troops that we have taken the two women." 

"You are right," replied the Cimarron scout. "The 
sooner a messenger is dispatched, the better." 

"Well, then," said the general, "you are the 
very man to take the trip. You are thoroughly ac- 
quainted with the country and I feel safe in entrusting 
this important message to you.'' 

"All right," cheerfully replied Captain Payne. 
"I weigh two hundred and fifty pounds, but I think 
that I can get through the encircling lines of red- 
skins." 

"You can take your pick of men and horses, and 
start at once," advised Custer. "I think that you 
will require about fifty men. With such a number 
I have no fear of your getting through." 

Payne scratched his head. "The fewer men I 
have with me, the better," said he. "Fifty of the 
best soldiers in the expedition couldn't make any 
headway at fighting the hordes of Indians on the war- 
path between here and Fort Hays. The men would 
only make the trip more difficult." 



THE CIMARRON SCOUT 273 

"Well, you shall have your own way/' laughingly 
replied the general. "What men will you take?" 

Captain Payne's mind was already made up. "I'll 
take Jack Cowan and Charley Picard," said he. "And 
my purpose is to leave this camp in about fifteen minutes. 
Good-bye!" In fifteen minutes the Cimarron scout 
and two companions had started across the wide sweep 
of sage-covered prairie. In eighteen hours they had 
marched one hundred and thirty miles and reached 
Camp Supply. But there were few soldiers here, so 
the three couriers had to push on to Fort Dodge. 

Each riding a mule, and driving a pack animal 
before him, (which was laden with over a thousand 
rounds of ammunition, as a precaution in case of a 
siege), the three daring couriers were soon on their 
way. Shortly after dark, as they were clambering up 
the hills of western Kansas, suddenly they found 
themselves almost upon the camp of over a hundred 
Kiowa braves — noted for their hostility to the white 
men. 

"Let's ride through the camp on a run," said Jack 
Cowan. "We will see some fun, boys!" 

"No," said the Cimarron scout. "We've got to 
go easy and carry our message through to Fort Dodge. 
I'd take a chance with you if our business wasn't 
most important. We'll back off and go around the 
camp." 

So they got safely by. But next day, as they 
were passing through some hills. Captain Payne made 
an exclamation of astonishment. 

"Followed, by gracious," said he. "There's one 



274 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

hundred and fifty redskins coming through the hills 
on our trail.'' 

"Let me look at 'em through the glasses," said 
Scout Cowan. Then, as he gazed intently, he ex- 
claimed, " Their faces are all painted up with war paint. 
They mean business, sure." 

"Ride to yonder ravine," cautioned the Cimarron 
scout. "We can find good protection behind the 
rocks. The redskins have only got bows and arrows. 
We can hold 'em off in spite of their numbers." 

Quickly hiding themselves among the rocks, the 
three scouts awaited developments. The redskins 
came after them at a good pace, and Cowan, unable 
to restrain his impulsive nature, drew his rifle to his 
shoulder to shoot at the leader. The bullet missed 
the warrior, but struck his horse in the head. The 
pony tumbled over and rolled down so near the three 
scouts that their mules became frightened and tried 
to get away. 

Crack! Crack! went the rifles of the other two 
scouts, while the redskins circled about them yelping 
like coyotes and harmlessly firing their long arrows. 
The fight continued for nearly two hours, and, because 
of the accurate aim of the scouts, several of the red 
men were shot and killed. The Indians were too cow- 
ardly to charge the little party. 

As the scouts fired at leisure, the redskins galloped 
up on the off side of their horses, and, seizing their 
dead comrades by the heels, rode off with them. Hav- 
ing at last secured and taken away their slain, the 
Kiowas divided, a body of about fifty crossing the 



THE CIMARRON SCOUT 275 

ravine in order to make an assault from the other side. 
''To the other bank, boys/' cried Payne, "and 
make every shot count/' 

Crack! Crack! went the rifles. Three redskins 
and two ponies went down, and the Kiowas — seeing 
that they were getting the worst of it — withdrew 
for a council. 

In a half an hour Payne cried out, "Get ready, 
boys, here they come!'' for he saw them approaching. 

The Kiowas came up on the dead run in two parties, 
each letting loose a shower of arrows. One hit Captain 
Payne in the right shoulder, cutting a deep gash, but 
fortunately missed the bone. "Fire away!" cried 
he. "I'm only scratched!" 

Two red men went down, and one pony, also. "Hi! 
Hi!" yelled Jack Cowan, jumping upon a rock. PulHng 
out a bottle of wine, he raised it to his lips, making a 
mock toast at the redskins. 

Seeing this act of bravado, several red warriors 
cried out, 

"Ugh! It is California Joe. No good to fight." 

In fact they withdrew. For such a holy horror did 
they have of this celebrated plainsman, that they feared 
to come on. Soon the last feathered top of a redskin's 
head was seen disappearing across the vast plains. 
The scouts had won the battle. 

Breathing easier the three bold plainsmen pushed 
onward, camping for the night on a hilltop, so that they 
could not be easily surprised. As dawn came stealing 
across the hills, the cry of a coyote sounded from the 
tall sagobrush. 



276 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

"Indians/' whispered Jack Cowan to the Cimarron 
scout. 

"Yes, Cheyennes/^ answered Captain Payne. "I 
know their music. We must be on our guard and move 
with the greatest care.'' 

So, cautiously keeping behind a chain of hills, the 
scouts began their journey. They had gone forward 
for about an hour when a wild yell sounded on the left, 
and three redskins galloped by, firing at them with 
stolen rifles as they passed. 

"This looks serious," said Payne. "Rifles are 
more dangerous than bows and arrows. We must be 
in for a stiff fight." 

No sooner had he spoken than twenty Cheyennes 
appeared in their front, all hiding on the off side of 
their ponies and yelping like timber wolves. 

Crash! sounded a volley from the three scouts and 
a redskin dropped to the sod. 

"We can't stop," cried the Cimarron scout. 
"Wright's corral is just ahead of us. We must keep 
on moving." 

Again the Cheyennes came on, and again sounded 
that accurate volley from the three scouts. 

Thus a running fight was kept up for several miles. 
One of the pack mules was struck, but fortunately 
was not disabled, and, by careful shooting, the red 
men were kept at a respectful distance. Finally, 
Wright's corral was seen, and, dashing quickly across 
the open prairie, the frontiersmen were soon under 
the shelter of the houses there, where twelve men were 
busily engaged in firing at the advancing Cheyennes. 



THE CIMARRON SCOUT 277 

"We've got to charge the devils," cried Captain 
Payne. "One good ride into them and we'll scatter 
the whole outfit. Get ready, boys, for a sortie." 

The twelve men at the corral were not eager for 
this kind of fighting. 

"Come on," shouted Payne, starting for the red- 
skins. "Will you all hang back like cowards?'^ 

So saying, he rode out after the Indians, and, seeing 
him alone, all present dashed after him. A few volleys 
scattered the Cheyennes. They were chased for a 
mile over the plains, and then the men came back, 
laughing. "Pretty bold Indians, I guess not," said 
Cowan. "Reckon they'll run till sundown." 

Next morning the three scouts were again on the 
trail. On the fourth day out from the corral they 
reached Fort Hays, but the Cimarron scout had to 
rub tobacco in his eyes in order to keep them open and 
avoid falling asleep on the way. He had travelled 
three hundred and sixty-five miles in one hundred 
hours, and had had two stout skirmishes with the red- 
skins. It was one of the swiftest rides, considering 
the obstacles encountered, ever made on the plains. 

"Custer is afraid that he will be surrounded and 
annihilated," said the Cimarron scout to the commander 
of Fort Hays. "I want a relief party, at once." 

"You shall have it," answered the soldier in charge 
of the fort. " Two hundred troopers shall go out with 
you tomorrow morning." 

And they did. 

Rapidly pushing over the alkali plain, Custer 
and his men were soon sighted. All were in splendid 



278 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

health and spirits, for they had been left alone — 
the Cheyennes had not returned to the attack. The 
ten captured chiefs were brought in to the fort and 
were placed in a stockade with sixty-five Indian women 
and children. The two white women were returned 
to their relatives, and thus the famous expedition ended 
in triumph and success. Captain Payne was the hero 
of the occasion, and many and often were the healths 
that were drunk to the famous Cimarron scout, the 
intrepid rider of the Kansas plains. 

The great scout lived to be an old man, and had 
many another brush with the red rovers of the frontier 
before his death; but the story of his splendid ride 
will always live in the annals of the country as one of 
the most daring feats among the many hazardous 
adventures on the wide, sun-baked plains of the arid 
Southwest. Long may the fame survive of the bold 
and resolute Cimarron scout!! 




WHITE BEAVER (dR. D. F. POWELL.) 



WHITE BEAVER (DR. D. F. POWELL) 

CHIEF MEDICINE MAN OF THE 

WINNEBAGO-SIOUX 

IT was at Whiskey Gap on the Sweetwater River. 
The crystal fluid of this musical stream was brown 
and yellowish at this point, and an old cow-puncher 
had looked at it once and said, "Looks like reg'lar 
tarantular juice. So's we must call this heah place 
Whiskey Gap. It's as good a name as any, I reckon. 
Leastways it sounds good to me.'' By that euphonious 
name it was always known, and, if you go there today, 
you will find that any stage-driver can show you the 
spot where the dun-colored ridges part to allow the 
rushing stream to crash on its mad course towards the 
lowlands. But you will not hear the wild yelp of the 
Arapahoes which rang from the crags and boulders that 
day in 1868, for on May 16th of that year there was a 
rattling little skirmish at Whiskey Gap. Here is what 
occurred : 

Ten white men were prospecting and hunting in 
this country at that time, among them being the famous 
Shoshone scout called Jonathan Pugh, and Frank 
Powell, or White Beaver, one of the most adventurous 
men of the plains. They were lying about upon the 
sweet-smelling grasses of the gap, when a wild yell 
warned them that the redskins were near. Crack! 
sounded a rifle, and in an instant all was excitement. 

279 



280 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

"To the buffalo wallow!" shouted Powell. "The 
banks make a splendid defensive position and the red- 
skins can't touch us there. Drive the horses in first 
and then lie down/' 

"There are a hundred redskins or else I'm no guess," 
cried Ted Walcott of Arizona. " See 'em circlin' around 
in th' tall grass like vultures. They won't get any 
prey this time, howsomever." 

"There goes our first horse," cried Powell. "Some 
of th' redskins have got pistols and rifles which they've 
stolen from some luckless devils that have fallen into 
their clutches. We're in for a long-drawn-out fight, sure. 
But, by the Great Jehovah, we will lick 'em." 

The little party had now run to the old buffalo 
wallow; had lain down behind the protecting bank, and 
all were firing, with careful aim, at the yelping and 
screeching red men, who rode their horses around the 
band of white hunters in a wide circle. One by one 
the horses of the white men were shot down, and, as 
each one fell, his body was placed upon the edge of the 
wallow as a barricade. Behind this the whites took 
shelter and did not waste their cartridges in useless 
firing. Every time a shot rang out from the barricade, 
a redskin either fell or heard the zip of a bullet but a 
hair's breadth from his body. The scouts were, by 
long practice, accurate marksmen. 

So the battle waged for an entire day. The Arapa- 
hoes did not have courage enough to charge the barri- 
cade, but rode round about it, yelling, firing with no 
good aim, and occasionally wounding a white frontiers- 
man with a spent bullet. That night they drew off out 
of range. 



WHITE BEAVER 281 

"They haven't left us alone/' said White Beaver. 
"They're just waiting around, out of gunshot, hoping 
that some of us will have to go for water so's they can 
get a pat shot at him. Th' river is a mile away, as I 
calculate it, and if we can't get water by digging we'll 
have to make a break for it." 

Sure enough, when morning dawned, there were 
redskins on the surrounding hills, looking like a lot of 
vultures sitting around the carcass of a dead horse. 
They sat there all day, sometimes chanting a weird 
death song for they felt sure of their victims. Every 
hillock held an enemy to the whites. 

"This looks bad," said McCabe, "seems as if they've 
got us." 

The others kept silent and stolidly watched the red 
men, firing whenever a topknot and painted face showed 
itself. 

"How! Yow!" yelped a redskin who knew a little 
English. "You no see squaw again. You all make 
prayer to Great Father. He see you soon. Arapahoe 
get much scalp. How! Yow!" 

For three days this situation lasted. Of food there 
was abundance, but every drop of water had been ex- 
hausted on the first day chiefly in bathing wounds. The 
scouts were almost crazed with thirst. The red men 
grinned at each other, for they saw the end. 

On the morning of the third day White Beaver 
jumped up and said, with spirit: 

"I will decide this battle; better die at once than 
linger from parching thirst in the terrible stench of these 
dead horses." 



282 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

"Well, what will you do?'^ asked the Shoshone scout. 

" Do? Why, charge the red devils and trust to luck. 
Let him who wishes to follow me, come on! As for me, 
I intend to leap out among the redskins and make a 
dash for the river." 

Scarcely had he finished speaking than with one 
bound he had leaped the breastworks and made a 
break for the river. 

All looked on, astonished at his reckless courage, 
as — with ear-spHtting yells — the Indians dashed to- 
ward him. Down they rushed, like timber wolves 
closing in upon a wounded caribou, each warrior anxious 
to be the first to get the white man's scalp. 

White Beaver kept on. When scarcely fifty yards 
separated him from the screeching Arapahoes, he raised 
his gun, fired, and the leading red man dropped from 
the back of his pony. Crash! Crash! sounded the guns 
of the hunters still in the barricade. "Come on, boys," 
shouted one of them, "don't let Frank Powell fight 
it out alone!" and, scrambling over the dead horses, 
the scouts rushed after the fleeing frontiersman. 

For a few moments there was a fierce battle. Red- 
skins dropped from their saddles by scores, but in spite 
of their determined stand, the scouts broke through 
their ranks and reached White Beaver, who, crouching 
behind a clump of sagebrush, was firing slowly and 
deliberately at the yelping redskins. Crack! went his 
rifle, and " Walking Crane," one of the most renowned 
braves among the Arapahoes, fell to the ground. 

"Ah, ha," cried the scout. "No more scalps will 
line your wigwam. This settles you." 



WHITE BEAVER 283 

Quickly joining him, the scouts threw up a breast- 
work near the Sweetwater in less time than it takes to 
tell it. Water was quickly secured and poured into tin 
cans. Refreshed by this, their rifle fire grew more 
accurate, so that the red men, realizing that they could 
not cope with the whites, withdrew. Their death chant 
sounded up the valley as they carried off their dead. 

The reckless daring and decisive judgment dis- 
played by Frank Powell in this stiff little fight, gained for 
him a great reputation among all of the scouts and 
Indian fighters of the great plains, and the name of 
White Beaver was soon on ever}^ man's tongue in the 
Northwest. "Look out for Wliite Beaver,'' they would 
tell the redskins when they got ugly. " He will be after 
you with his scouts and you know how he can shoot." 

Not long after the brush at Whiskey Gap, White 
Beaver with four sunburned rangers was hunting near 
the Stinking Water River in Wyoming. 

"We must look out for the redskins," he had warned 
his companions. "The Blackfeet are on the warpath. 
They are crafty and are good shots. We must always 
be upon our guard." 

The vast, pine-clad mountains stretched away on 
every side as the few trappers drove their pack animals 
up an old elk trail. A little crystal brook gurgled along 
near the path, and, in the sandy pits on either side, 
could be seen the tracks of the grizzly bears which came 
there to drink and to wait for a spring upon an unsus- 
pecting elk calf. Brown sage hens fluttered before 
them on several occasions, craning their necks and 
gazing at the strange men with foolish eyes, while in 



284 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

the hemlocks red chipmunks chattered and scolded at 
the cavalcade. 

Suddenly White Beaver reined in his horse. 

"Listen!" said he. 

The low hoot of an owl sounded from the dense 
woods on the opposite side of the canon. 

"Look out," whispered White Beaver. "There's 
trouble ahead." 

The scream of a mountain lion echoed from the same 
hill upon which they were resting. 

" Don't sound natural to me," said one of the scouts, 
a man named French. "It's too high." 

"Get behind trees," cried White Beaver. "There's 
trouble in the wind." 

As he spoke, the sharp crack of a rifle sounded forth, 
and a wild yell welled from the forest. 

" We're attacked," said French. " Better dig a forti- 
fication." But White Beaver was busily scanning the 
hillside with his glass. 

"There's about twenty Blackfeet," he cried, with cool 
decision. "Come on, boy. We'll charge the vermin, 
and, if I know the redskins aright, they'll scatter." 

Taking the bridle reins in his teeth, with a revolver 
in each hand and a rifle caught fast in the saddle-seat 
before him, White Beaver spurred his horse and started 
for the redskins, who could now be seen collected on the 
trail and aiming at the frontiersmen. 

"Hurrah for White Beaver," shouted his com- 
panions. " Let us follow where he leads!" 

Fierce as wounded panthers, and shooting with 
rattling rapidity, the five men rode into the Blackfeet 



WHITE BEAVER 285 

before they had time to know what their enemy was 
doing. Seven redskins went down before the accurate 
fire of the scouts. Many more were wounded. 

"Ugh! These men are devils/' cried the Indians. 
"They shoot like Katauno, the Great Warrior. We 
must get away.'' 

Had not the redskins cut away into the sheltering 
timber, every one would have been annihilated. White 
Beaver's courage had been too much for them. 

This spirited encounter but increased the reputation 
of the great scout. He was doubly popular on the frontier 
and all praised the daring of the courageous warrior. 
But, how came he to be named White Beaver? 

A Sioux warrior named Rocky Bear had a daughter 
whom he called Muz-zas-Ka, meaning White Metal. 
He loved her dearly, and, although not as beautiful as 
some maidens of her tribe, she was comely and fair to 
look upon. 

When about eighteen years of age this young maiden 
was stricken with malarial fever and soon was grievously 
ill, partly because of the treatment which the red men 
gave her. For, when Indians are ill, instead of keeping 
them as quiet as possible, as do tlie whites, the redskins 
make a great noise and beating of tom-toms or drums 
around the person who is unwell. 

For some days, as Muz-zas-Ka lay in a stupor, very 
weak and faint from her illness, the Indian medicine 
men danced about her, chanting doleful songs and mak- 
ing a terrible noise with gourds partly filled with shot. 
This racket, of course, only made her worse, and she 
was given over to die, as she was delirious. 



286 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

At this time, Frank Powell (White Beaver), who 
had studied medicine, came, by accident, to the camp 
of the red men. Hearing the death chant near his tent, 
he asked what was the cause. 

" Muz-zas-Ka, the daughter of Rocky Bear, is about 
to die," said a squaw. 

"Let me see the maiden," answered Dr. Powell. 

So he was led to the wigwam where lay the poor 
girl. 

After examining her, he turned to her father, saying : 
" Let me look after your daughter for two weeks and I 
can, I believe, restore her to life." 

"Ugh!" grunted Rocky Bear. "I do not believe 
you. But you can try." 

So Dr. Powell took charge of poor Muz-zas-Ka. 

First he sent all of the tom-tom beating medicine 
men away and let the patient have absolute quiet. Then 
he gave her certain medicines which he had with him, 
which greatly reduced her fever. In a week she was 
able to sit up, and in a month she had fully recovered. 

Rocky Bear was delighted. To prove his gratitude 
he presented Dr. Powell with the skin of a white beaver, 
which, among the Sioux, is regarded with awe and 
veneration. Just as the Siamese worship white ele- 
phants, which are extremely rare, the Indians worship 
the still rarer white beaver. 

In making the present, Rocky Bear said: 

" I love you much. You have saved the life of my 
fair daughter. Your mother was an Indian woman and 
a member of the beaver tribe of Senecas. You shall 
be known, henceforth, as Shoppa-Ska: White Beaver. 



WHITE BEAVER 287 

May the Great Spirit ever watch over you. Rocky Bear 
has spoken/' 

And this is how Dr. Powell came by his name. He 
won it nobly. 

Rocky Bear was a Cut-off Sioux, and, attracted by 
the life led by these marauders of the plains, White 
Beaver joined them. This branch of the tribe was 
called " Cut-off '^ because it had withdrawn from the 
main body, had cut itself off, and its members had 
become bandits and thieves of the prairie, engaging in 
expeditions for stealing horses, sheep and other posses- 
sions. They operated against the Arapahoes and 
Cheyennes, and were real ''bad Injuns.'' They were 
desperadoes, — reckless and vengeful. 

Following these bad men of the plains, Dr. Powell 
was led into many frightful slaughters and raids. He 
was a wonderful shot and, naturally, the Indians were 
glad to have such a man among them. 

One day Rocky Bear and his reckless followers 
were camped near the South Platte River, waiting for 
some innocent victims to come by, when a scout came 
galloping wildly into camp. 

"A party of fifty Arapahoes is far to the south," 
said he. " They are crossing a prairie butte with a herd 
of horses.'' 

In a moment the camp of the Cut-offs was astir. 
Before an hour they had started for the band of red 
men, to kill them and take their horses. And it was not 
long before the little party was sighted, wending its 
way across the plain in fancied peace and security. 

With a fierce yelping and screeching the Cut-offs 



288 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

bore down upon the Arapahoes. White Beaver was in 
the thick of the battle, kilHng several of the redskins 
and scalping them in a running fight from his horse, 
for he w^as like a wild man, himself, and was not at all 
scrupulous about cutting off the hair of an enemy. The 
Arapahoes put up a game fight, for their numbers were 
about equal to those of the other redskins and they had 
many warriors among them, in fact, it was a war party. 

As White Beaver galloped along, he was particularly 
attracted by a powerful redskin who was carrying a 
long lance decorated with fully a dozen scalps. It was 
plain to every eye that he was the pride and hero of this 
band of travellers. " Watch me capture the big chief,'^ 
cried White Beaver in Indian, as he spurred his pony 
towards this warrior, who, with a rifle and cartridge 
belt, was creating sad havoc among the attackers. 

The Arapahoe paid no attention to the boastful 
white man as he advanced. Seizing his revolver, the 
famous scout endeavored to shoot, but, as every cartridge 
had been discharged, it failed to go off. It was too 
late to draw another weapon. His horse just then 
bumped into the enemy, and the red man made a vicious 
thrust with his long, keenly pointed lance. He did not 
impale his antagonist, but missed him. The lance 
was jabbed again, and striking White Beaver in the 
left thigh, it cut a vein, from which a torrent of blood 
spouted. 

White Beaver — unable to hold on — fell to the 
ground. His horse at this moment was shot by the 
Indians and the warriors rushed upon him to put an 
end to the celebrated plainsman. As they came on. 



WHITE BEAVER 289 

the prostrate gladiator of the West seized another pistol 

from his belt and killed two red men as they advanced. 

''Help me, Rocky Bear/' cried White Beaver. "If 

you do not come to my aid they will have my scalp." 

As he called this out, Rocky Bear ran to his rescue 

at the head of a dozen braves. Endeared to White 

Beaver because he had saved the life of his daughter, 

he keenly endeavored to risk his own life in order to 

save the life of the fallen plainsman. Crack! Crack! 

sounded his rifle, and the redskin fell dead who had 

killed the faithful horse. His companions rushed upon 

the Arapahoes with vengeance in their eyes, and, before 

many moments, the Cut-offs had won. It was at a 

dreadful cost, as nearly half their number lay dead upon 

the parched and yellow soil of the prairie. 

As the last Arapahoe rode furiously off across the 
plain, Rocky Bear lifted the now prostrate White Beaver 
and placed him upon his own war pony. Then a swing- 
ing litter was slung between two horses, and he was 
thus carted away to his mother's ranch, which was 
luckily near by. Here he lingered between life and death 
for several days, but, thanks to the care of his devoted 
mother, finally recovered. As he was rapidly getting 
stronger, his parent turned to him and said: 

"Frank, let this battle be a lesson to you. You 
have degenerated from a noble scout and plainsman to 
an ignoble thief of the mountains. Give up your associa- 
tion with Rocky Bear and his marauders, for my sake, 
and for the sake of your dear father, who would turn in 
his grave if he knew that you were making your camp- 
ing place with the Cut-off Indians, the outcasts of their 



MOtTS 



290 FAMOUS SCOUTS . 

race. Come, from now on I want you to turn over a 
new leaf/^ 

White Beaver scowled, for he had begun to love 
the ways of the roving redskins. 

"For your sake, mother/' he said, at length, "I 
will give up this life of plunder and death. I admit 
that I have begun to like the ways of the Cut-offs, for 
they have been most friendly to me. But I know that 
I am degenerating — as you say. Henceforth I will 
not build my fire with the associates of Rocky Bear.'' 

And he kept his word. But how came this noted 
scout to be medicine man of the Winnebago Sioux? 
Here is the story of this important event in his life, told 
in his own words: 

"In 1876," he says, "I was on a deer hunt in the 
pine forests above Black River Falls. It has been my 
custom to take a deer hunt every 3^ear, and I usually 
visit the camps of the redskins to be of medical assistance 
to them if it is needed, and to be brought in contact 
with the Indian character, for I like to study them and 
their strange customs. 

"It chanced that while on this hunt, old Wee-noo- 
Sheik, head chief of the Winnebago Nation, was 
very ill. He was suffering from fever and from old 
wounds received in battle. His medicine men had been 
unable to relieve him and, learning that I was in his 
vicinity, he sent out several members of his tribe to 
search for me and beg me to come to see him. I was 
easily found and readily assented to go and see him. 

"Once in his camp, he told me that I should not 
leave him until he was cured. In so far as it is not an 



WHITE BEAVER 291 

uncommon thing for chiefs to order the execution of a 
medicine man who fails to cure a distinguished patient 
of this tribe, I was not in a very rapturous frame of 
mind when I took charge of Wee-noo-Sheik. His 
condition became a matter of extreme importance to 
me, though I betrayed no feehng of anxiety, as I did not 
regard the case as a very dangerous one in the beginning. 
I gave him my best professional services. 

"The old chief did not recover as rapidly as I had 
wished or expected. In about three weeks, however, 
the ancient warrior was able to go out of his tepee again 
and to resume his usual occupations. He began to 
smoke again and went deer hunting. I knew that my 
own life was in no danger. 

"Directly after his recovery Wee-noo-Sheik called 
a council of his people and said: 

" ' White Beaver he one big man with the medicine. 
White Beaver he give me new life. White Beaver, I 
never forget you. Ugh! I make you medicine chief 
of my Nation. I have spoken.' And this is how I 
became chief medicine man of the Winnebago Sioux.'' 

In the spring of 1877 the famous plainsman was away 
on a scouting campaign with a company of soldiers 
from Camp Stambaugh, under the command of a Captain 
Meinhold. These troops had been ordered out because 
the Cheyennes had become troublesome; had stolen 
much stock, and had killed many settlers. It was 
thought that they would soon go on the warpath, so this 
expedition was sent forward, more to intimidate than to 
punish. "We wish to show the redskins how many 
long swords we have," said Captain Meinhold. 



MOUf 



292 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

The troopers went slowly along for several days 
and then came across many burned cabins and other 
signs of redskin deviltry. The red men had plainly 
been upon the warpath. Every sign was fresh, so the 
soldiers travelled cautiously along, striking, at length, 
a new trail leading up a river bank; plain evidence that 
over one hundred Cheyennes had recently gone by. 

As the trail grew plainer, horrible proofs of redskin 
outrages came to the view of the soldiers. Cabins lay 
destroyed, while fences were broken dovm and fields 
of grain had been trampled upon and burned. Finally 
the dust-stained troopers reached a point overlooking 
a gorge. Gazing into the valley below, a dreadful sight 
met their eager eyes. 

There, below them, were broken emigrant wagons, 
a smouldering camp fire, and fifteen white men and 
women lying dead and mutilated as only a redskin 
knows how to mutilate. 

''The redskins have surprised this party,'' said White 
Beaver. "They were butchered before they knew who 
was upon them. Let us bury the dead in a Christian 
manner." 

Turning to with a will, the soldiers soon dug deep 
graves, into which they threw the disfigured bodies 
of the dead, covering them well so as to keep away the 
wolves and coyotes. 

"We will now chase and punish these rascally red 
men," cried the captain. "Tighten up your girths, 
men, and we'll follow this trail if it leads to Mexico." 

"Hurrah!" shouted the soldiers. "We'll get even 
with the redskins. On, Captain, on!" 



WHITE BEAVER 293 

For two days the troopers plodded along on the 
track of the red men. The Indians had marched 
very rapidly. But on the evening of the second day, 
they were come upon, just as they were making 
camp. 

"Is all ready?" cried the captain. "We will charge 
the camp at once." 

"All ready!" shouted the troopers. 

"Then charge!" cried the captain, as the bugle 
blared the order. 

Up over the foothills raced the soldiers, and, in less 
time than it takes to tell it, they were in the midst of 
the Cheyennes. Crash! went the carbines and many 
a red man bit the dust, while the screams of their women 
echoed shrilly over the tumult of battle. Ten redskins 
dropped before the unerring rifle of White Beaver and 
he was eagerly loading for another shot, when zij)! — 
a bullet struck him in the groin and he fell senseless. 
The battle swept on over the rolling hills, while the brave 
scout lay prostrate. 

As the troopers came slowly back, after chasing the 
murderous Cheyennes for five miles, and killing over 
half of them, they found the body of White Beaver and 
lifted him upon a horse. Slowly and carefully he was 
carried back to Camp Meinhold, where for two months 
he lay near death's door. But his resolution and courage 
finally won, and the gallant scout recovered. Ever 
afterwards he would speak with a shudder of the terrible 
butchery of the Cheyennes at Massacre Canon. By 
this name the little valley has always been known and, 
if you find it today, near the North Platte River, you 



iio&fe 



294 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

will hardly realize that such a spirited drama was once 
enacted in this peaceful-looking littTe vale. 

There have been many famous rifle shots on the 
plains but few have ever surpassed the accurate 
marksmanship of this well-known man of the West. 
He shot in many contests and was usually successful. 
All admired his marvellous skill with both the rifle 
and the revolver, and few would match their skill with 
his. 

This strange character, a man who had fought both 
with the redskins and against them, spent his declining 
years at Black River Falls, Wisconsin, in the practice 
of medicine. He had been a scout, a soldier and a 
desperado. He had sunk to the lowest depths of 
degradation on the plains — had become a Cut-off, 
a Dog Soldier — yet, by a herculean effort of the will, 
he cast aside the ways of the desperado for the nobler 
field of assistance to those of his fellowmen who were 
suffering pain and bodily affliction. A curious transit 
this, for, in the intervals between fierce campaigns on 
the plains, he had learned surgery and general medicine. 
It was to save him from becoming a cast-off of 
civilization. 

For many years the Winnebago Sioux consulted 
him on every political step contemplated by the tribe. 
His word was law among them. He treated them in 
sickness and counselled them in good health; thus — in 
peace and honor — closed the life of \Vhite Beaver, one 
of the best known plainsmen of th@ then unconquered 
West; an expert rifle shot, and a scout whose ability 
was supreme. 



WHITE BEAVER 295 

He lies where the coyote once snapped at the trail 

Of the elk, as he browsed on the sweet-smelling sedge, 
Where the brown bison roamed, with the pace of the 
snail, 

And the warrior sneaked on the porphyry ledge. 
His eye saw the cabin aflame and surrounded, 

His voice called the plainsmen to march to the fray, 
His nerve gave the soldiers courage unbounded. 

As they raced with the Cheyenne on sand hummocks 
gray. 
Then here's to White Beaver, — the King of the Moun- 
tain, 

Whose aim was unerring, whose muscles were steel, 
Whose blood ran as free as a swift-gushing fountain, 

A health to our plainsman,— do'st heed this appeal? 



THE HONORABLE WILLIAM F. CODY: 
BUFFALO BILL 

IT^S spring in old Manhattan, an^ th^ sparrers chirp 
an' fight, 

In all the ivy-covered fronts, they only stop at 
night. 
Th' Hurdy-gurdy's back again, th' Hokey Pokey man 
Has got a brand-new, white duck suit; 
He looks just spick an' span. 

I'm gettin' awful tired of my lessons an' my school, 
I wish that all would burn right up. Our teacher is a 

fool 
Ter keep us addin' figures, when it's nice an' warm 

outside. 
An' th' swimmin's sumthin' scrumptious in th' ocean's 

surgin' tide. 
But hear! th' band is comin', an' there's noises in th' 

park. 
It's Injuns! Hully gee, boys! There's goin' ter be 

a lark! 
Good-bye ter books an' lessons, — this schoolin' makes 

me ill. 
Come, fellers! Join th' cowboys! 

Hurray 

fer 

Buffalo Bill! 
296 



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BUFFALO BILL (wiLLIAM F. CODY.) 



BUFFALO BILL 297 

Who, in America and Europe, doesn't know Buffalo 
Bill? Buffalo Bill of the bucking bronchos, the 
overland stage, the pony express, the yelping red- 
skins, the daring cowboys, the dashing cowgirls, the 
famous rifle shots — Johnny Baker and Annie Oak- 
ley — the jolly vaqueros. Good, old Buffalo Bill. 
Fine, old Buffalo Bill. Many and many a pleasant 
hour have you given us with your galaxy of daring 
riders, untamed horses, galloping redskins, and career- 
ing soldiers. May your red shirt continue to lead 
your band of wild equestrians of the plains for many 
a moon. Here's to you, Buffalo Bill! 

But are you a real, true hero of the plains, Buffalo 
Bill? Did you ever really figure in the development 
of the West, Buffalo Bill? Did you ever take part in 
the dashing escapades which we have seen in the' tan- 
bark arena, Buffalo Bill? Were you ever truly a mighty 
hunter of the plains? 

As the French say, certamement. 

But, as the Indians say, "Buffalo Bill, he one big 
fighter with the stick which speaks with the voice 
of thunder. The-chief-with-the-red-shirt he take 
many scalp. He one big man on the trail! Ugh! 
Buffalo Bill he same as Great Spirit! Ugh! Ugh!" 

Yes, the Honorable William F. Cody is a real, bona- 
fide hero of the plains. Listen, then, to the story of 
his adventurous life. But, if you want to have ad- 
ventures similar to his you can't have them, for there 
isn't any great West any more, and the wild life which 
he lived cannot be found again. 

One day — about the year 1852 — a little fellow 



298 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

with long brown hair and dressed in a suit of tanned 
deer hide was standing on the street at Fort Leaven- 
worth, Kansas. A crowd of Indian ponies were near by, 
but the boy didn^t try to get on one of them and take 
a ride because he w^as afraid to do so. He had tried 
to get on two or three of them, the day before, but they 
had bucked and plunged so wildly that he had been glad 
to leave them alone. 

As the boy stood watching the ponies, and saying 
to himself : " My, I wish that I could ride one of those 
horses," there came towards him a magnificent specimen 
of western manhood. The boy looked at him admir- 
ingly for the fellow was more than six feet tall. His 
body was clothed in a beautifully beaded suit of buck- 
skin. His brown face was shaded by a huge sombrero, 
and his step was as light and springy as a deer's. Look- 
ing at the boy, he said: 

"Little one, your ponies seem to be very wild.'' 

"Yes," replied the boy. "And one of them has 
never yet been ridden." 

"Do you want to see him ridden?" 

"You bet." 

"Then I'll ride him for you." 

"All right. Let's see you." 

"Good," said the man of the plains, and whirling 
his lasso he soon threw it over the head of one of the 
ponies. The animal reared and plunged madly. But, 
fastening him by a strong grip, the cowiDoy soon threw 
him. In a second he had his saddle on his back, and 
in fifteen minutes the bridle was on the horse's head. 
Then the frontiersman leaped into the saddle and the 



BUFFALO BILL 299 

pony made off, bucking, rearing and plunging in a 
desperate endeavor to unseat the rider. It was in vain. 
After bucking for about twenty minutes he decided 
that it was useless to try to throw the cowboy, and 
tamely submitted to the guidance of his master. 

As the man in buckskin brought the pony in, the 
father of the boy stepped up to him, thanking him for 
his exhibition of horsemanship. 

"Oh that's nothing," said the fellow. "I was raised 
on horseback. I ran away from home when I was a boy. 
I was a bareback rider, for a time, in a circus. Then 
I heard of the gold excitement in California and went 
there, not as a miner, but as a hocarro, a catcher and 
breaker-in of wild horses. Last summer we caught 
this herd that we have brought across the plains, and 
want to sell it in the states. I'm going over to Weston 
tomorrow to see if my uncle is still living there, and 
when we've sold the horses I'll go and see the rest of 
my folks in Ohio." 

"I am acquainted in Weston," said the father of 
the boy. "Perhaps I can tell you about your uncle. 
What is his name?" 

"Elijah Cody!" 

"Elijah Cody! Why, he is my brother!" 

"And my name is Horace Billings. Ever hear of 
me?" 

"Well, I reckon. You ran away when a young 
man and we'd given you up for lost. Welcome, Mr. 
Billings. This is my little son, William Cody." The 
rough rider smiled broadly. 

"Show me how to rope and ride horses," cried 



300 FASfcrJS SCOUTS 

little William at once. "I'm dying to learn how to 
ride as you do/' 

His cousin laughed. "Why, my boy/' said he, 
"nothing would give me greater pleasure." And this 
is how little William F. Cody (Buffalo Bill) first learned 
how to be a cowboy. 

Soon after this meeting Billings was employed in 
catching government horses, a large herd of which 
had stampeded from Leavenworth some time before, 
and now roamed over the prairies. During the time 
that he was thus employed little Billy was his constant 
companion, and received from him excellent lessons 
in throwing the lasso and managing wild horses. Of 
course he was not strong enough to overturn the big 
animals, but he watched his active cousin as he whirled 
the lasso over the head of the galloping steeds and 
threw them — with nostrils distended and eyes glaring 
with terror — upon the ground. It was exciting 
enough sport and Billy enjoyed it. 

Not long afterwards little Billy Cody had his first 
brush with the redskins. His parents had moved to 
the far West because of political troubles in Missouri 
and Kansas, where Mr. Cody, Billy's father, championed 
the cause of Abolition, or of doing away with slavery. 
This change of abode pleased Billy more than it did 
his parents for he loved adventure, and meeting one 
day with Mr. Russell, a great freighter, he said to him: 

"Mr. Russell, I have lost my pony. Some redskin, 
I fear, has stolen him from me for he was grazing 
out on the prairie behind my cabin just two days ago. 
What shall I do for another horse?" 



BUFFALO BILL 301 

" Billy, my boy, cheer up,'' said Mr. Russell. " Come 
to Leavenworth with me and I'll employ you. I'll 
give you twenty-five dollars a month to herd cattle." 

"Fine," cried young Cody. "I'll accept at once." 

But when he told his mother of his plans he met 
with strong opposition. 

"I'm afraid that you'll fall into the hands of the 
redskins," said she. "Besides, I want you to stay 
at home and go to school." 

In spite of all his arguments Billy could not per- 
suade his mother to let him remain with Mr. Russell, 
— so he ran away. Just as the freight train was start- 
ing to Fort Phil Kearney, he turned up, saying, 

"I've come to earn that twenty-five dollars, Mr. 
Russell. Where are the cattle?" 

"Glad to see you," said the boss freighter. "The 
cattle are out here. Go to work at once, and I promise 
you that you'll have some excitement, as the redskins 
are thick in this here country, and they certainly love 
the sleek cattle of the white man." 

Young Cody went to work with a will and accom- 
panied the freight train towards Fort Kearney. When 
the train reached Plum Creek, on the South Platte 
River, thirty-five miles west of old Fort Kearney, 
the wagon-masters and most of the men went to sleep 
under the wagons, as usual; the cook began to prepare 
dinner, and the cattle were guarded by only three men. 
No one thought that Indians could be near. 

Suddenly a wild yell sounded upon the plain and 
every one jumped to his feet and seized his gun. 
In astonishment they saw the cattle running in every 



MOTi 



302 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

direction, surrounded by redskins, who shot and killed 
the three men who were watching the herd. The men 
were well armed with Colt revolvers and guns which 
carried two buckshot and a large bullet, but the Indians 
killed them before they could draw their weapons. 

"Fire at the redskins," cried a teamster called 
McCarty. 

A volley rang out and checked the charge of the 
Indians. 

"Boys, make a break for the slough yonder," cried 
McCarty. "We can then have the bank for a breast- 
work." 

One white man had been badly wounded by a bullet 
from the red men, and he was carried along, as the 
wagoners made a break for the slough, which afforded 
excellent protection. But they were here only a short 
time before McCarty again called out: 

"Well, boys, we'll try to make our way back to 
Fort Kearney by wading in the river and keeping the 
bank for a breastwork." 

"You're right," cried all. "Better retreat. The 
Indians are too many for us." 

Retreating down the slough for several miles, the 
white men stood off the redskins with their guns until 
the slough made a junction with the Platte River. 
From there on the water was deep, so in order to carry 
the wounded man along, a raft was constructed of poles 
and he was transported along upon this. The redskins 
followed close behind, and fired wherever they could 
get in good range. 

Little Billy — being the youngest and smallest of 



BUFFALO BILL 303 

the party — fell behind the rest, because he became 
very tired. About ten o'clock that night he was keep- 
ing very close to the bank, when he suddenly looked 
up at the moonlit sky and saw the tufted head of a 
redskin peering over the grass. Instead of running 
ahead and alarming the men, quietly and discreetly, 
he immediately aimed at the red man's head and firad. 
Crack! sounded his gun in the stillness, and a loud 
whoop welled up into the night air. The next instant 
a six-foot Indian came tumbling into the river, while 
little Billy stood trembling with fear that the entire 
force of red men would immediately be upon him. 

While the young plainsman stood bewildered, the 
men, who had heard the war-whoop and rifle shot, 
came rushing up to him. 

"Who fired that shot?'' cried McCarty. 

"I did," answered Billy, rather proudly. 

"Yes, and little Billy has killed an Indian stone 
dead," cried one of the crowd. "Bully for you, young 
scout, you'll make a plainsman yet!" 

This was, of course, the first redskin that Bill had 
ever shot and, as he was not more than eleven years 
of age, of course his exploit created quite a sensation. 
The other Indians, upon learning what had happened, 
fired several shots without effect, which hastened the 
retreat down the river, so that Fort Kearney was reached 
just at daybreak, and the wounded man was brought 
in safe and sound. 

McCarty quickly reported to the conmianding 
officer and informed him what had happened. A 
company of cavalry and one of infantry were immedi- 



Motrj 



304 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

ately sent to Plum Creek, but the cattle were found 
to be stampeded and lost among 'the vast herds of 
buffalo which were grazing near by. The trail of the 
red men was followed for some distance and then aban- 
doned, while the three dead cattle herders were 
buried. Little Bill Cody went along with the soldiers. 
He was much praised for his daring shot, and many 
a frontiersman patted him on the back, saying, " You're 
a good boy. Always keep your nerve with you, and 
you'll come out all right with the redskins." 

Not long afterwards young Cody had another ex- 
citing adventure with the red riders of the plains. 

Joining a freight train from Fort Laramie to Fort 
Leavenworth, little Billy sought employment under 
a wagon-master called Simpson who was in charge of 
two trains, which travelled about fifteen miles apart 
with about two hundred men with each. One morn- 
ing, while Simpson was with the rear train, he told his 
assistant wagon-master, George Woods, to call young 
Cody, saddle up three mules, and ride with him to over- 
take the head train, then out of sight across the prairie. 

Much overjoyed at the prospect of a ride across 
the sweeping plain, little Billy eagerly saddled his 
mule and joined the two freighters, who started out 
about eleven o'clock. They rode on for about seven 
miles, when — while on a big plateau — they suddenly 
saw black specks rapidly nearing them on the prairie. 

"Stop!" cried Simpson. "They may be redskins!" 

"Indians, by all that's holy," cried Woods, "we're 
gone for sure." 

The Indians, meanwhile, had rapidly approached, 



BUFFALO BILL 305 

and were charging down upon the three whites with 
wild yells of delight, for they were sure that they had 
them. 

Simpson was an old Indian fighter. "Quick, boys,^' 
he shouted. ''Shoot your mules and form a barricade 
with them. The redskins have only got bows and 
arrows. We've got a good chance to stand 'em off 
behind the dead bodies of our mules." 

In a jiffy the mules had been slaughtered and 
the three teamsters leaped inside the barricade of mule 
flesh, all ready to receive the yelping Indians. Each 
was armed with a Mississippi yager (rifle) and two 
revolvers, and as the screeching warriors came swoop- 
ing down upon their improvised fort, crash! crash! 
sounded the volleys from their rifles. Three Indians 
dropped to the sod and, yelling wildly with rage, 
the others retreated out of range. Seeing that they 
could not take the little fortification, or drive the gar- 
rison from it, they circled around it several times, 
shooting their arrows and yelping like the panthers 
of the vast Rocky Mountains. 

Suddenly George Woods gave a sharp cry. 

"I'm hit," said he, and as Simpson and young 
Cody looked at him they saw that an arrow had pierced 
his shoulder, luckily inflicting only a slight wound. 
Many an arrow struck and quivered in the bodies of 
the prostrate mules. 

At this moment the redskins galloped off to a safe 
distance, where bullets could not reach them, and seemed 
to be holding a council of war. It was a lucky move 
for the three plainsmen, for it gave them time to re- 



^oxtj 



306 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

load their guns and pistols and prepare for the next 
charge. With their knives they also threw up earth 
over the mule barricade, thus making it more effective. 
The arrow was pulled from Woods's shoulder. 

Again welled out the wild Indian yell, and the red- 
skins came on for another charge. Crash! Crash! 
sounded the volleys from the barricade and again the 
red men were checked. Circling around several times, 
yelling and screeching, they rode off leaving another 
dead Indian and a horse behind them. For two hours 
afterwards they did nothing but palaver with one 
another, evidently trying to decide upon the best man- 
ner of capturing the three whites. Thus the exciting 
day wore to a close. 

That night the cunning red men set the buffalo 
grass on fire. But it was short and would not burn 
well. In the smoke the most daring redskins crept 
up near the mule barricade, but several well-aimed 
shots kept them at a respectful distance. They aban- 
doned the idea of surprising the courageous fighters 
in the fort but, apparently believing that the three 
whites belonged to the advance train that had passed 
on the morning of the previous day, they sat around 
to starve them out. "You never reach your friends!" 
cried out a redskin who knew a little English. " Ugh ! 
Your scalps soon belong to us!'' 

About ten o'clock on the next day young Billy 
jumped up with an expression of joy upon his face. 

''I hear the second train coming," he cried. "We'll 
soon be free." 

Sure enough, the cracking of the huge bull whips 



BUFFALO BILL 307 

used by the ox drivers was soon heard across the plain. 
With straining and anxious eyes the three barricaded 
fighters saw the head wagon coming over a distant 
ridge. It approached only too slowly, for the Indians, 
seeing it come on, held a short consultation and then 
charged the plainsmen for a last time. They were 
driven off and, as they wildly careered over the prairie, 
the winners of this stiff little fight sent a rattling vol- 
ley after them. "Hurray, we^ve won!" yelled Billy. 
"Hurray for the wagon train!'' 

The teamsters, hearing the shots and seeing the 
Indians, came running towards the barricade, but by 
the time they reached it the last redskin was galloping 
across the prairie. 

"You've put up a plucky fight,'' cried several. 
"You boys are heroes," said others, and all were 
certain that Simpson's remarkable presence of mind 
in forming the defense had saved the day. Woods's 
wound was bandaged and he was put in one of the 
wagons, while Simpson and little Billy each obtained 
a live mule to ride; bade good-bye to the dead mules 
which had been of such excellent service, and after 
collecting the ornaments and feathers from the pros- 
trate redskins left their bodies and bones to bleach upon 
the prairie. The train mov^d on and reached its des- 
tination without further attack from the redskins of 
the plains. 

Little Bill Cody was now a fairly well-seasoned 
plainsman, and as the years went by he increased in 
both strength and keenness. When at Julesburg, 
Colorado, a short time afterwards, the leading wagon- 



308 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

master of a large firm of freighters came to him and 
said: 

"Cody, we are just starting a pony express be- 
tween this station and the East. We need tough, 
young men to do the work. I want you, for you are 
an excellent rider. You will have to ride forty-five 
miles in a day with a change of ponies every fifteen 
mUes. You must make fifteen miles an hour and 
change your mounts without wasting any time. Will 
you take the position?'' 

"You bet," rephed young Cody. "Til be glad to 
do it." 

So he was engaged as the carrier of the express 
packages of Wells, Fargo & Company, by horse. 
He was fortunate in getting well-broken animals and 
was so light that he easily made the required forty- 
five miles a day. But the work was hard and he was 
in constant fear of an assault by prowling redskins and 
robbers of his own race. Finally he received a letter 
from his mother asking him to give up this arduous 
service. 

"It will surely kill you, William," she wrote. "Fif- 
teen miles an hour, on horseback, will shake any young 
man to pieces in a very short time. I have never 
known a pony express rider who could last any length 
of time. I want you to give up the work." 

Little Bill — now a good-sized Bill — stuck to it 
for some time, in spite of this, but after receiving a 
letter to the effect that his mother was very ill, he gave 
up this gruelling work and returned to his old home. 
The experience had done him good. 



BUFFALO BILL 309 

But he couldn't stay quiet for long. Soon after 
reaching home ^ trapper came to him, saying: 

"Bill, I am going to make a trapping expedition 
up the Republican River and I need a companion upon 
whom I can rely. We are sure to get many valuable 
furs, and beaver are thick in this country. Will you 
come with me, share profits and share expenses?" 

"You bet I will," said Cody, and in a week's time 
he was outfitted and away on the expedition after 
valuable furs. 

One day during the winter the two trappers spied 
a herd of elk and started in pursuit of these noble 
animals. While creeping around the sharp bend in 
a creek, young Cody slipped and broke his leg just 
above the ankle. 

"You'll soon get over your trouble," said Trapper 
Harrington, as Billy groaned out that he was sure to 
die. "I'm not much of a surgeon, but I can bind up 
that leg of yours so that it will mend in a short time. 
I'll take you back to our dugout on my back and let 
you stay there quietly until you get thoroughly well." 

After setting the fractured bones in the little hut 
which the two trappers had made, Harrington said: 

"Bill, our two oxen have died and we need either 
oxen or horses to take out our furs to the settlements. 
So I'm going to hit the trail for the nearest village — 
one hundred and twenty-five miles distant — to obtain 
some pack animals and then come back for you. I'll 
leave you plenty to eat. You can live here in comfort 
until I return." That night he went on his journey. 
Snow was on the ground and he left plenty of wood 



MottJ 



310 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

for the young trapper. "I'll be gone about twenty 
days," Harrington said on leaving. "Cheer up and all 
will be well." 

On the twelfth day after his departure the injured 
trapper was lightly sleeping when he felt some one 
touch him sharply on the shoulder. He awoke with 
a start, and looked up to see an Indian warrior by his 
side. His face was hideously daubed with red paint, 
so it was plainly evident that he was on the warpath. 

"Ugh! Paleface!" said he. "What are you doing 
here? How many are there with you?" 

Young Cody's heart sank for, as the redskin spoke, 
the dugout became filled with other Indians. He 
could hear the voices of still more outside, and the 
stamping of horses. 

"I am alone," replied Cody. "My leg is broken. 
I am a cripple and defenseless." 

"Ugh!" said the redskin, and as he spoke an 
elderly Indian entered the cabin, whom Billy easily 
recognized as old Rain-in-the-face, a Sioux chieftain 
who Hved near Fort Laramie. "How!" said Billy. 
"You remember me. Chief? I came often to your 
lodge near Fort Laramie." 

The chieftain scowled at him, and then made 
reply. 

"Paleface, what are you doing here? My young 
men are on the warpath. They desire the blood of 
all of your race. I do not wish to see you die, for you 
are a papoose. I will see what my young men have to 
say." 

Turning to his warriors he then held a long conversa- 



BUFFALO BILL 311 

tion with them. At the end of this, he spoke to the 
terrified young trapper: 

"My young men will spare you/' said he, "for 
you are only a papoose. But they wish your gun and 
pistol/' 

"Please do not take them," cried Billy. "After 
you are gone, hungry timber wolves will come down 
from the mountains. If I have nothing to defend 
myself with they will eat me." 

"You cannot have them," grunted the old chief. 
" My young men need your fire sticks. You must keep 
quiet or they will hurt you." 

So young Billy said nothing more. Meanwhile 
the redskins unsaddled their horses and remained there 
all through the day and night. They helped them- 
selves to the provisions of the trappers, built a fire, 
and had a big feast. When they left next morning 
they took all the sugar and coffee, and nearly every- 
thing else, leaving behind only some meat, a small 
quantity of flour, a little salt, and some baking powder. 
"Oh, but I'm glad to see them go," sighed young Cody 
as they made off. "Unless I had happened to know 
old Rain-in-the-face, my scalp would now be dangling 
to the end of one of their spears." 

Soon after the red men left it began snowing and 
the dugout was completely covered up. It was bitterly 
cold and there was little food. The young trapper 
w^as in danger of starvation, but he kept alive for twenty- 
nine days in spite of the fact that the wolves were 
pawing and scratching around the hut and were only 
driven out by well-directed streams of hot water. 



312 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

On the twenty-ninth day the cheerful sound of 
Harrington's voice came slowly up the creek, yelling 
"Whoa! Haw!" to a span of oxen, newly purchased. 
Soon he was in the doorway. 

"Hello, Billy," said he, "how are you?" 

"All right, Dave. I've had a tough siege of it 
since you've been away, and some Indians robbed me 
of my guns, ammunition, and most of my food. I 
began to think that you'd never get here, for I was 
afraid that you had been snowed under. Thank good- 
ness you are back." 

Harrington soon cleared away the snow and came 
inside, where young Cody was so overcome by emotion 
that he flung his arms around his neck and hugged him 
for fully five minutes. 

"Well, Billy, my boy," cried the rescuer. "I 
hardly expected to see you alive again. I had a terrible 
trip of it, and I didn't think that I would ever get 
through. I was caught in a snowstorm and laid up 
for five days. The cattle wandered away and I was 
within an ace of losing them. When I got started 
again, the snow was so deep that it prevented me from 
making much headway. But, as I left you here, I 
was bound to come through, or die in the attempt." 

The tears of joy rolled down his cheeks as young 
Cody hugged him like a grizzly bear. 

"Noble fellow," said he. "You risked your own 
life to save mine. I will never forget you." 

"I think it remarkable that the Indians did not 
kill you," Harrington replied. "You have had a hard 
time of it. But we will soon be out of this country. 



BUFFALO BILL 313 

We can stand it now until the snow melts, as I have 
plenty of food. Then we will pull our wagon back 
to the settlements." 

This they did and, arriving at Fort Leavenworth 
in March, 1860, the team was sold and the furs netted 
a handsome profit. For many months the young 
trapper had to hobble around on crutches before he 
entirely recovered the use of his leg. 

During the Civil War the fearless trapper had some 
valuable experiences as a "Red Legged Scout," an 
organized body of riders who had many skirmishes 
in Arkansas and southern Missouri with "bush- 
whackers" and independent rangers. He saw much 
service and did good work. Just after the close of 
hostilities he was scouting near Fort Fletcher, when 
General Custer came out to go upon an Indian expedi- 
tion with General Hancock. Scout Cody was ordered 
to guide Custer to Fort Larned, — sixty-five miles across 
the country. 

"Cody, I want to travel quickly and go through 
as fast as possible," said General Custer to him, look- 
ing carefully at a long-legged mule which he was rid- 
ing. " I don^t think that animal of yours is fast enough 
to suit me." 

"General," replied the scout, "never mind the 
mule. He'll get there as soon as your horses. This 
mule is a lolla-paloosa." 

Custer laughed. 

"Very well," said he. "Go ahead, then, but I 
guarantee that at the end of twenty miles you will 
be far astern of us. Forward. March." 



314 FAM^5»e SCOUTS 

For the first fifteen miles Scout Cody could hardly 
keep the mule in advance of the general, who was 
mounted upon a frisky, impatient and ambitious thor- 
oughbred horse; in fact, all of his men had fine mounts. 

"That mule of yours is no good,'' chaffed Custer. 
"He's a back number." 

Irritated by this, the scout began to let his mule 
out and spurred a bit. He soon had outdistanced all 
of the horses, and by the time that half the distance 
to Fort Larned had been traversed, occasionally Scout 
Cody had to wait for the general and some of his party, 
as their own horses had begun to show decided signs 
of weakening. Cody smiled good-humoredly. Finally, 
he said: 

"General, how about this wornout specimen of 
a mule, anyway?'' 

"Cody, I thought that you had a no-count mule," 
replied Custer. "But I be switched if you haven't 
got a human locomotive. That mule's as good as the 
Union Pacific Express. When we get to the fort 
I'll give you a dinner." And he did. 

Just at this time the Kansas Pacific Railroad was 
being constructed across the plains, and when track 
laying began it was not long before the locomotives 
reached the heart of the country where roamed the 
vast herds of buffalo. To build this roadbed twelve 
hundred men were engaged and, as the roving Indians 
were very troublesome, it became difficult to obtain 
a supply of fresh meat with which to supply this army 
of workmen. "We must have hunters to kill buffalo 
for us," said one of the Goddard Brothers, who had a 



BUFFALO BILL 315 

contract for boarding the employees. "Who would 
be a good man?'' 

"I suggest William Cody," said a frontiersman. 
"He is a young fellow who is a good rider and an ex- 
cellent shot." 

So one day the scout was approached, while in 
Hays City. 

"Will you become hunter for us?" he was asked 
by the elder Goddard. "We will require twelve buf- 
faloes a day, that is, twenty-four hams, as we need only 
the hump and the hind quarters." 

"This will be dangerous work," replied the scout. 
"I will be obliged to go from five to ten miles a day 
accompanied by only one man with a light wagon to 
transport the meat in. I can only do it for a large 
salary, for I am in constant danger of my life from rov- 
ing redskins." 

"We will give you a good salary," Goddard an- 
swered. "How would five hundred dollars a month 
suit you?" 

" I will go for that." 

"Then consider yourself engaged." 

Thus the bold and daring Cody began a career as 
buffalo hunter for the railroad. During his engage- 
ment, a period of about a year and two months, he 
killed four thousand two hundred and eighty buffaloes 
and had many exciting adventures with hostile red 
men. He was nicknamed Buffalo Bill by the road- 
hands at this time, and this name stuck to him through 
life. He says, "I have never been ashamed of it," 
and there is no reason why he should be. 



316 FA:SltWS SCOUTS 

As the famous plainsman started upon his first day's 
hunting, he turned to one of the soldiers, saying: 

''I know that sooner or later I will be surrounded 
by redskins. In case your pickets notice, at any 
time, that smoke is arising from my hunting ground, 
it means that I am in great danger. Send me im- 
mediate assistance." 

"All right," the soldier, who was a captain, replied. 
"We'll always keep a sharp lookout for you. We'll 
send you assistance if you need it." 

One day as Buffalo Bill and his companion, " Scotty," 
were returning to camp with a load of meat, and were 
within about eight miles of the railroad, suddenly about 
thirty redskins came riding upon them from a ravine. 

The two hunters had often talked over the pos- 
sibilities of a surprise, and had planned how to defend 
themselves. Jumping to the ground, they threw the 
buffalo hams upon the prairie, and piled them around 
the wheels in such a manner that a pretty good breast- 
work was formed. The mules were unhitched and tied 
to the wagon with the horse of the famous scout. Then 
the two men crept under the wagon, seized four extra 
revolvers wliich they always carried with them, and 
made ready for business. The Indians came on, whoop- 
ing wildly. They were received with a galling fire 
which dropped three of them. But they kept riding 
around in a circle, firing at the fortification, and suc- 
ceeded in killing the horse and the two mules. Finally 
they drew off for a council of war. 

"I'm going to signal to the troops," cried Buffalo 
Bill, and, drawing his match box, he had soon set fire 



BUFFALO BILL 317 

to the long prairie grass. The fire spread rapidly over 
the plains, causing a dense smoke. 

"That ought to bring the soldiers/' said "Scotty," 
"but the redskins have still got some fight left in 'em." 

As he spoke a rattling volley came from the watch- 
ful Indians, and again they charged the fortification. 
They were driven off with the loss of one man. 

In about an hour Buffalo Bill leaped to his feet. 
"Hurray!" he cried. "Here come the soldiers. We're 
saved!" 

Sure enough, the signal of distress had proved to 
be all right and, at a full gallop, a group of cavalry- 
men came briskly over the plain. The redskins saw 
them at the same instant and, quickly mounting their 
horses, made off at a sharp pace. Two hours later the 
hunters were in camp with their load of meat stuck 
full of arrows, and with fully forty bullet holes in it. 
"This meat is a bit hole-y, but it's good," remarked 
Buffalo Bill loquaciously. "As it has been blessed 
by fire, it might be called holy meat, eh?" 

Not many moons later, he had another exciting 
experience. 

Mounted on his favorite horse, Brigham, a buckskin 
animal with remarkable endurance, he started one day 
in the spring of 1868 for Smoky Hill River. After 
galloping for about twenty miles he reached the top 
of a small hill overlooking the valley of this winding 
and beautiful stream. "Beautiful," ho said out loud 
when he gazed upon the crystal water and verdant 
meadows and, as he uttered the word, about thirty 
redskins leaped into view, about half a mile distant. 



318 FiVMOUS SCOUTS 

Without waiting a second, they began to gallop towards 
the lonely scout, who had — this day — left " Scotty'^ 
behind. 

''The only chance that I have in the world is to 
make a run for it," thought the buffalo hunter, and, 
turning his horse, he dug the spurs into him. The in- 
telligent Brigham seemed to understand what was up, 
and struck out as if he comprehended that he was soon 
to be engaged in a race for the life of his master. Un- 
fortunately, he was not fresh, as he had come a long 
distance that day, but it was now or never with Buffalo 
Bill, so he sat tight and urged the faithful animal to 
do his very best. 

The Indians began to gain upon the fleeing plains- 
man. After three miles had been covered about nine 
of the red warriors were not over two hundred yards 
behind him, and five or six of these seemed to be shorten- 
ing the gap at every jump of their fresh little ponies. 
One of the horses in particular, a spotted animal, was 
getting dangerously close. Brigham was doing his very 
best but, for four miles, he could not outdistance the 
fleet Indian mustang. His rider, armed with a rifle, 
occasionally sent a bullet dangerously near the ears 
of Buffalo Bill. 

"I've got to check this fellow or he'll shoot Brig- 
ham and I'll be massacred," said the scout out loud, 
and wheeling around, he raised his rifle to his shoulder. 
The redskin on the spotted pony was about eighty 
yards (two hundred and forty feet) away and, as the 
scout's rifle cracked down fell the, racing horse, while his 
rider took a double somersault over his head. Not 



BUFFALO BILL 319 

waiting to see whether he recovered or not, Buffalo 
Bill again turned Brigham's nose towards the railroad, 
and was off again. 

The scout had determined — if the worst came to 
the worst — to drop into an old buffalo wallow for 
protection, and make a desperate battle for his life. 
The redskins had gained upon him while he was occupied 
in shooting at their leader, and every now and again 
they would send a bullet past the head of the white 
fugitive. Occasionally the scout would wheel in the 
saddle and return the compliment and, by great good 
luck, he struck one of the horses, broke its leg, and thus 
put another Indian out of the race. On, on went 
pursuer and pursued, but now they neared the outpost 
near the end of the railroad, where two companies of 
soldiers were stationed in order to protect the work- 
men from the redskins. Buffalo BilPs breath came 
with more freedom. He saw that his desperate ride 
for life was about over. 

As the red men and white frontiersman raced across 
the plain, one of the outposts saw the fugitive and 
Indians and gave the alarm. It was thus not many 
moments before several cavalrymen were galloping 
across the plains to rescue their hunter of the buffalo. 
As soon as the Indians saw them coming they decided 
that it was better for them to withdraw, so wheeled 
about and made off in the direction from which they 
had come. 

In a few moments Buffalo Bill was in the camp. 
Jumping from Brigham's back and pulling the blanket 
and saddle from his back, he said: 



320 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

''Boys! This is the finest horse that ever drew 
breath. He has just saved my fife! Nothing is too 
good for him for he has outrun thirty redskins/' 

At once the soldiers took charge of the horse, led 
him around, and rubbed him so vigorously that it 
seemed as if they would rub him to death. ''Bully, 
old boy,'' they kept repeating. "You're the finest 
animal on the prairie." 

" Don't you want a fresh horse so's to chase the red 
men?" cried Captain Nolan of the Tenth Cavalry, 
who was just starting out after the disappearing Indians. 
"Take any cavalry horse that you wish." 

Buffalo Bill nodded and, in a very few moments, 
had his own saddle and bridle upon a government 
animal. The horses were all fresh. After galloping 
after the Indians with fully a hundred cavalrymen, 
it was soon evident to the scout that they would catch 
some of the marauders. Before five miles had been 
covered eight redskins had been overtaken and killed. 
The rest succeeded in getting away. 

"On coming up to the place where I had killed 
the first horse — the spotted one — " says Buffalo 
Bill, "I found that my bullet had struck him in the 
forehead and killed him instantly. He was a noble 
animal and ought to have been engaged in better 
business. 

"When we got back to camp I found old Brigham 
grazing quietly and contentedly on the grass. He 
looked up at me as if to ask if we had got away with 
any of those fellows who had chased us. I believe 
be read the answer in my eyes." 



BUFFALO BILL 321 

This time the scout escaped but, not long after- 
wards, he was captured and had a pretty severe ex- 
perience with Satanta, the Kiowa chieftain whom 
General Custer subsequently defeated at the Battle of 
the Wichita.* 

One day when alone, and en route for Fort Larned 
from Fort Zarah, in western Kansas, Buffalo Bill was 
Hearing Pawnee Rock, a large promontory which rises 
high above the plains. Suddenly about forty redskins 
came riding towards him, crying "How! How!" and 
extending their hands. As the scout looked at them, 
he saw that they were some Indians that he had seen 
that morning at Fort Larned, but as their faces were 
smeared with red paint it was plainly evident that 
they were now upon the warpath. 

Not wishing to offend the red men, the scout held 
out his hand to one of them. The redskin grasped it 
with a tight grip, jerking the rider forward with great 
violence. A second Indian grabbed the mule by the 
bridle; a third seized his rifle and revolvers; a fourth 
struck him upon the head with his tomahawk, which 
nearly knocked him unconscious. "You come along 
with us," cried the redskin who had seized him by the 
hand. " We got use for you. Ugh ! Your hair long — 
it make good scalp!" 

An Indian who had hold of the bridle started 
off towards the Arkansas River, leading Buffalo Bill's 
mule, which was lashed by the other redskins in the 
rear, all of whom were laughing, singing, shooting, 
and screeching like coyotes. As they rode onward the 

*See "Famous Cavalry Leaders." 



322 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

• 

scout saw an enormous Indian village being moved down 
the bank of the Arkansas and he became convinced 
that the Indians had left the post and had gone upon 
the warpath. Bill's captors waded through the stream 
with him and, as they did so, not only lashed his mule, 
but also himself. After trotting into the village, they 
took him before an important-looking body of red men, 
among whom was crafty old Satanta. 

The Indians were jabbering away among themselves 
so that Buffalo Bill could not understand what they 
were saying. Suddenly Satanta cried out, 

" Paleface, where have you been?" 

^'I've been after a herd of Whoa-haws [cattle]/' 
replied the astute plainsman, for it so happened that 
the redskins had been out of meat for several weeks, 
as a large herd of cattle promised them by the govern- 
ment had not yet arrived, although expected by Satan- 
ta's band. So the moment that the " whoa-haws" were 
mentioned, the old chief's face lighted up with pleasure, 
and he said, 

"Ugh! Ugh! That is good news. We wish the 
whoa-haws. Can Paleface tell me where they are?" 

''Certainly, Chief," replied the crafty Buffalo Bill. 
" I have been sent by General Hazen to inform you that 
the whoa-haws were on the road to feed your band. 
They are only back from here a few miles." 

Satanta smiled broadly. "Are there any long- 
swords [soldiers] with the herd?" said he. 

" There are many long-swords," Buffalo Bill answered. 

Thereupon the chiefs held a consultation, at the end 
of which old Satanta asked, 



BUFFALO BILL 323 

"Is it really true that the big white chief (General 
Hazen) has said that I am to have the cattle?" 

"Yes/' said the scout. "I have been sent to tell 
you so. And why, pray, do your young men treat 
me this way? Is that any way to use the ambassador 
of the big white chief?'' 

Satanta was a veteran liar and he kept up his rep- 
utation right well. 

"That's only a game of my young men, my boy," 
said he. "My young fellows wished to see whether or 
not you were brave. They tried to frighten the long- 
hair to see if he had the courage of a warrior. Ugh I 
Ugh! You did well." 

Buffalo Bill swallowed this story with a smiling 
face. "Very good," he answered. "But it certainly 
is a rough way to treat friends." 

"Give back the shooting sticks to Long-hair," 
thundered the wily chieftain. "Can you go and bring 
the cattle down to the river so that my people can get 
them?" 

"Of course," cheerfully lied Buffalo Bill, who was 
beating the champion prevaricator at his own game. 
"That is what the big white chief has told me to do. 
But I do not wish any of your young braves to come 
with me, for it would mean that the long-swords would 
ride on with me and there might be trouble with those 
warriors who have been striking me. If I go alone 
I will tell the long-swords to keep right on to Fort Larned 
and then there will be no trouble." 
"You can go," said the old chief. 
Buffalo Bill did not wait for another order, and, 



324 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

• 

wheeling his mule around, was soon reerossing the river. 
Just as he reached the opposite bank, he looked back 
and saw that ten or fifteen Indians were following him. 
They apparently suspected that he had not been telling 
the truth and wished to keep an eye on the paleface, 
until the phantom cattle were delivered. 

The moment that his mule had secured a good 
foothold upon the bank, Buffalo Bill urged him at 
a gentle lope to the place where he had told Satanta 
that he would bring the whoa-haws. Upon reaching 
a ridge and riding down upon the other side, where 
he was hidden from the eyes of the red men, he turned 
his mule's head towards Fort Larned; let him out for 
all that he was worth; and sat down for a desperate 
ride for his life. The redskins soon saw him, and, 
whipping their ponies, started in pursuit. 

In spite of the fact that the fleeing plainsman plied 
both spur and whip, the Indians gained on him. When 
Buffalo Bill reached the dividing ridge between Ash 
Creek and Pawnee Fork, with Fort Larned only four 
miles away, the red men were only a quarter of a mile 
behind, but, as he reached the other side of the stream, 
he was overjoyed to see some soldiers in a government 
wagon. 

''Hold on," cried the fleeing scout. "The Indians 
are after me. Dash into yonder woods and we'll 
shoot the whole outfit, for there are only about a 
dozen." 

"All right," answered Denver Jim — a well-known 
scout — who was with the wagoners. "Here, boys! 
scramble into that thicket over there." 



BUFFALO BILL 325 

The team was hurriedly secreted among some trees 
and low boxwood bushes. 

In a few moments the Indians came dashing up, 
lashing their horses with sticks, for the tired animals 
were panting and blowing. Three or four were allowed 
to go by, and then a lively rifle fire was opened upon the 
next three or four, two being killed at the first crack. 
The others suddenly discovered that they had run into 
an ambush and, whirling off into the thicket, turned 
and ran their horses back from the direction in which 
they had come. The two that had passed heard the 
shots, and escaped, — as the men hurriedly secured 
the ornaments and horses of the fallen red men and beat 
a hasty retreat to the fort. The soldiers there had 
heard the firing and, believing that Satanta was coming 
with his red men, the buglers were blowing the call 
to fall in. Thus ended this thrilling ride. 

These Satanta red men were reduced to subjection, 
shortly afterwards, but the Sioux rebelled and took 
up the warpath instead of the ways of peace. Buffalo 
Bill joined a large infantry column under General 
Carr, sent to punish these marauders which started out 
for the Republican River where the Indians were 
supposed to be in great force. They had no difficulty 
in finding them. The soldiers were reinforced by a 
number of Pawnee Indian scouts and these redskins 
did most excellent service, for they hated the warlike 
Sioux and were always ready to go into battle against 
them. 

Not many days after they had been on the trail, 
the Pawnees came into camp on the dead run. As they 



326 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

raced across the prairie, Buffalo Bill stepped up to 
General Carr, saying, 

"General, here come our men and they have had 
a big fight. I know it, for this is the way they always 
come into camp after they have had a tough scrinmaage 
and have taken a lot of scalps/' 

The general told his trusty scout to ride out to meet 
them. 

'^How! How!'' said Buffalo Bill. "What have 
you been doing?'' 

" See heap Sioux," cried one of the Pawnees. " Have 
big fight. We kill three. They kill four of our men. 
Have one big fight, sure!" 

When General Carr heard the news, he immediately 
prepared for active measures. 

"Select all the good horses. Mount your men on 
them and push after the red men," he cried. "The 
wagon train will follow with the rest of the party. 
Buffalo Bill, I want you to pick out five or six of the 
best Pawnees and go in advance of my conmaand, 
keeping ten or twelve miles ahead on the trail, so that 
when you find the Indians, you can discover the loca- 
tion of their camp and send word to my troops in order 
that I may arrange a plan for the capture of the village." 

" All right," Buffalo Bill replied. " I shall do as you 
say and we shall, no doubt, have a lively little battle." 

It was not long before he was well ahead of the 
column and, moving very cautiously, he and his Paw- 
nee companions soon discovered the Indian village 
encamped in the sand hills south of the South Platte 
River, near Summit Springs. 



BUFFALO BILL 327 

"You keep watch here/' said Buffalo Bill to the 
Pawnees, "while I go back and tell the big chief 
that the red men are in view. We'll have one smart 
little fight before another sun, and it will be good fun 
for all concerned." 

When the presence of the Sioux was reported to 
General Carr, he immediately ordered his men to tighten 
up saddles, look to their ammunition, and prepare for 
action. 

"I advise you to circle around to the north of the 
camp, sir,'' said Buffalo Bill to the general. "The 
Sioux will have scouts on this side of their camp, be- 
cause any one who is following them will come from 
this direction. I am going to change my horse for old 
Buckskin Joe, as he is fresh, and I may have to do a 
lot of hard riding." 

"I'll follow your advice. Bill," replied the general. 
"We'll bear far around in a circle and fall upon the 
Sioux from the side opposite the one from which we 
are travelling." 

By this manoeuvre the command avoided discovery 
by the Sioux scouts, and, when within a mile of the 
red men, the general halted the command, saying 
that, when he sounded the charge, the whole body 
should rush upon the Indian camp. 

As the soldiers paused on top of a hill overlooking 
the camp of the unsuspecting Sioux warriors — with 
their women, ponies, baggage and children — General 
Carr called out to his buglers, "Sound the charge!" 

The bugler was so excited that he actually forgot 
the notes. 



328 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

Again cried the general, "Sound the charge!" 

The bugler was unable to blow a single blast. 

At this moment Quartermaster Hays — who was 
riding near the general — comprehended the dilemma 
which the man was in, and, galloping up to him, jerked 
the bugle from his hand, and sounded the charge in 
clear and distinct notes. As the troops rushed for- 
ward, he threw the bugle away, then — drawing his 
pistol— was among the first to gallop into the Indian 
village. 

When the Sioux saw the charging soldiers, pan- 
demonium broke loose among them. A great many, 
jumping on their ponies, rushed out of the village on 
the gallop, leaving everything behind. Those who 
were on foot fled to the neighboring hills. The Pawnee 
scouts, regular soldiers and officers, were all mixed up 
together in the village, while a few Sioux warriors, 
and some of the women, blazed away at them from 
their tepees. The village was soon captured and the 
troopers pursued the stampeded redskins over the 
plains, where they had scattered like a flock of young 
prairie chickens. When darkness came, the tired 
soldiers returned to the camp, much elated at their 
easy victory. 

"The command must separate into individual 
companies in order to follow the redskins,'' said General 
Carr. "Buffalo Bill, I want you to join one of these 
and push towards the northwest.'' 

At "boots and saddles," next morn, the scout 
started out with a company which followed a trail 
of about a hundred Indians. It was soon evident, 



BUFFALO BILL 329 

from the tracks of ponies and men, that another large 
band had joined the first. 

"It's pretty hazardous to follow these redskins," 
said Buffalo Bill. "They outnumber us and there'll 
be trouble. We may be badly beaten." 

But there were many brave — if not foolhardy 
— men in the company, and his good counsel was 
thrown aside. All insisted upon pressing forward. 

On the third day afterwards, a party of about six 
hundred Sioux was discovered, riding along in close 
ranks, near the Platte River. When the Indians 
caught sight of the soldiers, they immediately prepared 
for battle. 

"These redskins far outnumbar us," said the 
company commander. "Let us take advantageous 
ground and stand 'em off. If we charge into that 
bunch, we'll be annihilated." 

Not many moments after he had spoken, the red 
men came on, and the soldiers retreated slowly but 
surely into a little ravine where they hid their horses 
in a natural pit. The Indians circled about in order 
to find out the true strength of the command, and 
then, seeing that these were very few, they charged 
desperately. Crash! Crash! sounded the volleys from 
the soldiers, and, although several of them were 
badly wounded by arrows, the red men were driven 
away. 

But they weren't driven off for good. At their 
council of war an old chief said: 

"We got the palefaces. Let us stay until we get 
their scalps. They have killed twenty of our warriors. 



330 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

We will starve them out. We are many. They are 
few/^ This counsel was considered to be "good medi- 
cine/' and it was decided to starve out the whites; so 
the redskins began to ride around the white men in a 
circle, just out of rifle range. 

As they rode slowly by, Buffalo Bill saw a magnif- 
icent-looking chief, riding a piebald pony and smeared 
with red and yellow paint. A beautiful headdress 
of eagle feathers was upon his black locks, while a 
dangling quiver, full of arrows, hung by a deer thong 
from his back. He had a rifle and cartridge belt, 
both of which he had, no doubt, stolen from some 
government post. 

"Boys!" said the scout. "You wait here a moment 
and watch me try to get a shot at that chief. I believe 
that I can bring him down.'' 

"You can't touch him," said several, laughing 
satirically. 

Buffalo Bill did not reply, but, creeping stealthily 
up a little gorge, hid himself from the eyes of the In- 
dians and stopped at a point where he believed that 
he could get a clear shot at the Indian when he again 
rode by. Soon the painted chieftain came loping 
his pony through the tall prairie grass, and, just as he 
brought his mount to a walk, in order to cross the very 
ravine in which the scout was crouching, Buffalo Bill 
rose to his knees, took careful aim, and fired. 

His aim was perfect. With a wild, despairing yell, 
the chief tumbled to the sod, shot clean through the 
body, while his horse* galloped towards the soldiers; 
one of whom caught hold of the long deer-thong lariat 



BUFFALO BILL 331 

in his mouth, and thus captured him. It was a shot 
of four hundred yards,— truly a remarkable one. 
Was it a wonder, then, that as the accurate marksman 
returned to the command, a cheer went up for " Buffalo 
Bill, the best shot on the plains! Hip! Hip! Hurray!'' 

Strange to relate, the death of this chieftain so 
affected the Indians that they retreated without making 
another charge upon the soldiers. It was Tall Bull, 
one of the most cunning and able of the Sioux leaders, 
and a redskin who had great influence among the wild 
riders of the plains. 

Not many days afterwards, this company joined 
General Carr's command, and a stiff fight was had 
with the Sioux, which ended successfully. Three 
hundred red warriors, several hundred squaws, and a 
great herd of ponies, fell into the hands of the whites, 
and, among the women, was the stout but pretty widow 
of Tall Bull. 

When this lady saw Buffalo Bill, her black eyes 
sparkled, not with anger, but with pleasure. 

"Him great man. Him Prairie Chief. I love 
Prairie Chief,'' she cried. "Him send my husband 
Tall Bull to the land of the Hereafter. Him one big 
chief!" 

Strange as it may seem, the conquered chieftainess 
considered the slayer of her husband to be a great 
warrior, for he had vanquished the ablest fighter among 
all the Sioux. In fact, she wished to marry the gallant 
scout, but he successfully eluded her. For many years 
afterwards the famous marksman was known among 
all the northern Indians by the name which this en- 



332 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

amored lady had given him — the Prairie Chief — 
and it stuck to him for many years. 

One other duel of Buffalo Bill's is worthy of mention, 
for it increased his already brilliant reputation as a 
marksman of wonderful ability. 

After the great Custer massacre, which I have fully 
described in *' Famous Cavalry Leaders," the so-called 
Prairie Chief was ordered to join General Merritt, 
who — with five hundred men and horses — was mak- 
ing a forced march to War Bonnet Creek, in order 
to intercept a number of Cheyennes — allies of the 
Sioux — who had broken from the Red Cloud Agency 
and had gone on the warpath. 

One beautifully clear morning Buffalo Bill went 
out on a scout in order to see if the command was any- 
where near the redskins. As he was crossing a rough 
tableland, a cloud of dust, away off upon the prairie, 
warned him that Indians, or soldiers, were near by. 
Through his glass he saw that there were red warriors 
ahead, and putting spurs to his horse, was soon back 
by the side of General Merritt. 

^'Indians are coming,'' said he. "They are only 
about ten minutes away. Get ready, for there's going 
to be a big fight.'' 

"Mount!" ordered General Merritt, and, as the 
soldiers sprang upon the backs of their steeds, they 
were told to keep out of sight. The general and Buffalo 
Bill rode to a neighboring hilltop. 

"Those redskins are coming right towards us," 
said the scout. "Hello! They're after two mounted 
soldiers, evidently with dispatches for us. See, about 



BUFFALO BILL 333 

twenty of them have pushed off to the right !^' 

The Indians were plainly endeavoring to intercept 
the two dispatch bearers. 

"I want to save those two fellows/' said he, "but 
I don't want to send out any of my soldiers, for, if the 
Cheyennes see them, they'll stampede, and I won't 
be able to have a fight." 

"Wait until the two couriers get nearer," answered 
Buffalo Bill, ''and then, just as the Cheyennes are 
closing in on them, I'll take the scouts and cut these 
twenty redskins off from the main body." 

"All right, Cody," said the general. "If you can 
do that, go ahead and good luck to you." 

Buffalo Bill ran quickly to the command; jumped 
upon his horse; picked out fifteen scouts, and returned 
with them, to the point of observation, where General 
Merritt was watching the exciting race through his 
glasses. Finally, he lowered them, crying out, 

"Go in now, Cody, and be quick about it! The 
Indians are going to charge upon the couriers." 

Instantly, Buffalo Bill dashed over the bluff, fol- 
lowed by the scouts, who urged their horses forward 
at a sharp gallop. The two messengers were only 
a short distance away, while the pursuing Cheyennes 
were about two hundred yards behind them. As the 
scouts charged, they opened fire. 

The Cheyennes fired back with much spirit, and 
a running fight was kept up for several minutes, the 
Indians retreating all the while, leaving three of their 
number on the plain. General Merritt was about 
half a mile away watching the skirmish through his 



334 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

field glasses, and he saw the little band of redskins 
turn and put up an excellent fight. 

At this moment, one of the Cheyennes, who wore 
all the ornaments of a chieftain, including the white 
eagle feathers in his hair, cried out to Buffalo Bill, in 
his own language, 

"I know you, Pa-he-haska. If you want to fight, 
come on ahead and fight me!" 

"I'll be only too glad to accommodate you," called 
the scout, as the chief rode his horse back and forth 
in front of him. 

The two enemies now galloped towards each other 
at full speed. When they were about thirty yards 
apart, Buffalo Bill raised his rifle and fired. As the 
smoke from his rifle rolled upward, the horse which 
the red man was riding fell to the ground, — shot stone 
dead. At the same instant the steed of the intrepid 
frontiersman stepped into a gopher hole and went to 
earth, throwing his rider over his head. But the scout 
was not injured, and, jumping to his feet with the 
agility of a cat, again fired at the chieftain, just as the 
painted warrior raised his own rifle. 

Crack! sounded that death-dealing weapon of Buf- 
falo Bill's. 

Crack! spoke the "thunder-stick" of the redskin, 
and a bullet whizzed by the ear of the buckskin-clad 
man of the plains. 

The leaden missile from the carefully aimed rifle 
of the scout did not miss. Screaming with anguish, the 
redskin reeled and fell, while the spouting blood crim- 
soned his beautifully tanned shirt. With a dull thud 



BUFFALO BILL 335 

he touched the earth. — In a second, the scout was bend- 
ing over him. — A dexterous twist, — he had drawn 
his knife and raised both scalp and war bonnet from 
the head of the prostrate warrior. 

As the redskin friends of the fallen chieftain began 
to gallop towards him, General Merritt realized the 
danger that Buffalo Bill was now in, and cried out, 

"Company K, ride to the rescue of Buffalo Bill 
and ride like the Old Nick, for he'll be captured if you 
don't reach him in a few minutes." 

With a cheer, the troopers galloped towards the 
lone plainsman, and they reached him none too soon, 
for the red men were all around him. As they swung 
into view, the fearless fighter waved the topknot and 
war bonnet of the dead redskin in the air, shouting: 

" The first scalp for Custer f 

The words had scarcely left his lips when General 
Merritt ordered the entire regiment to charge upon the 
oncoming lines of Indians. The battle opened in 
earnest. Bullets flew; wild war-whoops rang out, and 
several warriors fell to the ground in their last sleep. 
For a time the red men kept up a stubborn fight, and 
then — seeing that they could not defeat the celebrated 
Fifth Cavalry — the braves began a running retreat 
towards the Red Cloud Agency, from which they had 
recently escaped. For thirty-five miles the cavalry- 
men pursued them, pushing them so hard that they 
were forced to abandon their loose horses, camp equi- 
page and other belongings. Finally, they were driven 
into the agency, and the great fight of the War Bonnet 
was a thing of the past. 



336 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

To chronicle all of the great buffalo hunts, Indian 
battles, rides after horse thieves and robbers, and 
dangerous scouting expeditions in which this famous 
plainsman was subsequently engaged, would take an 
enormous volume. As you know, he came through 
all these hazardous adventures unscathed, and has 
lived to be a celebrated show-man and exhibitor of 
the once rough and reckless wild life of the American 
plains. 

At the present time of writing — August, 1910 — 
he is touring the country (as he says) for the last time, 
with the famous Wild West Show. May he continue 
to enjoy the greatest health and good spirits, and may 
the plaudits of an appreciative multitude continue 
to resound in the ears of the great plainsman; for Buffalo 
Bill has been the best known of all the daring scouts 
upon the American plains; his heart has always been 
warm, and his aim has ever been true. Good luck and 
smiling good fortune be with you ever, Buffalo Bill, 
hero of a hundred battles and true monarch of the 
great American prairie. 



CONCLUSION 

WE have now learned about all of the famous 
pioneers and men of the plains, the back- 
woods, the prairie and the mountains, who 
have made names for themselves in the development of 
the North American continent. Undoubtedly famous 
scouts have existed in South Africa, x\ustralia and the 
Canadian wilds, but it has been impossible for me to 
secure any data regarding these men, and I have, there- 
fore, had to leave them out. I should have liked to 
include a record of the services of Major Walsh, of the 
Canadian mounted police, but no information was to be 
had. 

These were all rough, honest fellows. Some were 
not, perhaps, tutored in philosophy, in history, in the 
arts and niceties of a more complex civilization, but 
they were all brave, resolute, fearless and manly. From 
Israel Putnam, the master woodsman of the French 
and Indian War, to Buffalo Bill, the skilled scout and 
plainsman, we see that the continent has produced real, 
true heroes, men whose lives were dangerous, daring, 
and full of the excitement of battle. And what is the 
lesson to be learned? 

The lessons are many. In our present civilization, 
where the lives of most men are spent in shops, factories, 
counting houses and the like, it is almost impossible 
for them to attain the rough, hardy values of these 

337 



338 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

• 

characters, whose existences were in the open air and 
the wild woodland. It is necessary, however, that the 
modern young man should keep his body and muscles 
in trim; that he should have a healthy mind in a healthy 
body, or, as the Romans put it: "Mens sana in corpore 
sano." 

The danger of modern civilization is that the young 
man becomes too much of an indoor animal, and, where 
called upon to exercise some of the stern virtues, cannot 
hold his own with those who lead a more hardy and 
vigorous life. The city boy is cramped, held in, unable 
to live the free life which makes big lungs and hard 
muscles. 

But — if willing to do so — the boys of the city 
can make athletes of themselves, and can learn to 
shoot, to ride, and to do all of those things which made 
these pioneers famous. 

In America — both in Canada and the United 
States — the National Guard holds out a splendid op- 
portunity to all those who wish to learn how to handle the 
rifle; mount a horse; learn the pitching of a tent, camp 
cooking, and how to take care of one's self in the open. 

In England, the militia, "Yeomanry,'' and particu- 
larly the Boy Scouts, are always anxious for recruits 
and will welcome all who come to learn. There is ever 
a chance to become proficient in the arts which the 
famous scouts, trappers and pioneers had to know, 
because they used them in their daily lives. 

The great George Washington laid down a series 
of Rules of Conduct, and says, in Rule 56: "Let your 
recreations be manful, not sinful." 



CONCLUSION 339 

Get out into the woods — when vacation time comes; 
— go camping, pole a canoe up rapids, fish, hunt — if 
it is possible; play tennis, ride and sail boats. Do 
anything but loll around the city, dissipating your 
energies when you could be fitting yourself for a time 
when your country might need you on the firing line. 
And that time appears to come once, sometimes twice, 
in every generation. 

All people deplore war, but war seems to come. 
Warfare will never cease. 

There is no reason why the English-speaking races 
should ever have conflicts. They have had them in 
the past, but now, standing for the same principles 
of right, justice and civilization, there should never 
be any cause of actual hostilities between the Canadians, 
the people of the United States, of Australia, South 
Africa, England, and wherever men have the common 
English language. All disputes can be arbitrated, and 
the people of the above mentioned countries should 
have sufficient intelligence and common sense to agree 
with any decision of a hoard of arbitration. I think that 
they have. 

In time of peace prepare yourself for battle, for you 
do not know when some alien people — jealous of you 
and your world position — confident in their own 
prowess, and bent upon the aggrandizement of their 
empire, will take it into their heads that they desire 
and wish your territory, and, by force of arms, will 
take that which is yours. Americans and Englishmen 
do not wish to see their countries walked over, as the 
Chinese have had the pleasure of viewing, because they 



340 FAMOUS SCOUTS 

could not keep law and order in their own boundaries. 
Therefore, young man, take seriously to heart the 
lesson which the lives of these stout woodsmen teach. 
Cultivate the life of the camp and learn the use of the 
rifle. The wild game is now extinct where you live, 
perhaps, but wooden targets are easily constructed, 
and with these you can learn to shoot as well as did 
Kit Carson, Davy Crockett, or Meriweather Lewis. 
Learn how to he a soldier. It will assist you in every 
way, and you never know when the trumpet call of 
battle will cry to you to be up and doing. Then, if you 
have prepared yourself, you will be ready, and you can 
undertake the privations and sufferings of a campaign. 

FIT YOURSELVES! 
"Hark! I hear the tramp of thousands, 
And of arm'd men the hum; 
Lo! a nation's hosts have gathered 
^Round the quick, alarming drum — 
Saying, ^Come, 
Freemen, come. 
Ere your heritage be wasted,' 
Said the quick, alarming drum. 

" Fit yourselves! the blare of gatlings, 
And the roll of muffled drum, 
Will not call to you, unready. 
When the steel-clad minies hum. 
You will come! 
Yes — will come! 

When the great, red god of battle 
Rolls the deep, awakening drum." 



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tures. By RuEL Perley Smith. Illustrated. $1.50 
" Just the type of book which is most popular with lads 

who are in their early teens." — The Philadelphia Item. 

PRISONERS OF FORTUNE: A Tale of the Mas- 
sachusetts Bay Colony By Ruel Perley Smith. 
Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece . $1.50 
" There is an atmosphere of old New England in the 
book, the humor of the born raconteur about the hero, 
who tells his story with the gravity of a preacher, but with 
a solemn humor that is irresistible." — Courier- Journal, 

FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS. By Charles H 

L. Johnston. 

Large 12mo, With 24 illustrations . . . $1.50 

Biographical sketches, with interesting anecdotes and 
reminiscences of the heroes of history who were leaders 
of cavalry. 

" More of such books should be written, books that 
acquaint young readers with liistorical personages in a 
pleasant informal way." — N. Y. Sun. 

FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. By Charles H. L. 
Johnston. 

Large 12mo, illustrated $1.50 

In this book Mr. Johnston gives interesting sketches of 
the Indian braves who have figured with prominence in 
the history of our o-^ni land, including Powhatan, the 
Indian Csesar; Massasoit, the friend of the Puritans; 
Pontiac, the red Napoleon; Tecumseh, the famous war 
chief of the Shawnees; Sitting Bull, the famous war chief 
of the Sioux; Ceronimo, the renowned Apache Chief, ate., 
etc. 

A-4 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



FAMOUS SCOUTS. By Charles H. L. Johnston. 

Large r2mo, illustrated $1.50 

Mr. Johnston gives us historical facts and biographical 
sketches and interesting anecdotes of those heroes oi early 
pioneer days who made names for themselves among the 
hardy adventurers who thronged the border. There are 
tales of Gen. Israel Putnam; the celebrated Daniel Boone; 
Kit Carson, the noted scout; Lewis and Clarke, the hardy 
explorers; the world-renowned Buffalo Bill, and of many 
other famous scouts, trappers and pioneers. 
BEAUTIFUL JOE'S PARADISE: Or, The 
Island of Brotherly Lo ve . A sequel to ' ' Beautiful Joe." 
By Marshall Saunders, author of " Beautiful Joe." 
One vol., library 12mo, cloth, illustrated . . $1.50 
" This book revives the spirit of ' Beautiful Joe ' capi- 
tally. It is fairly riotous with fun, and is about as unusual 
as anything in the animal book line that has seen the 
light." — Philadelphia Item. 
'TILDA JANE. By Marshall Saunders. 

One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, $1.50 
" I cannot think of any better book for children than 
this. I commend it unreservedly." — Cyrus Townsend 
Brady. 

'TILDA JANE'S ORPHANS. A sequel to " 'Tilda 
Jane." By Marshall Saunders. 
One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, $1.50 
'Tilda Jane is the same original, delightful girl, and as 
fond of her animal pets as ever. 

THE STORY OF THE GRAVELE YS. By Mar- 
shall Saunders, author of " Beautiful Joe's Para- 
dise," " 'Tilda Jane," etc. 
Library 12mo, cloth decorative. Illustrated by E. B. 

Barry $1.50 

Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and 

triumphs, of a delightful New England family, of whose 

devotion and sturdiness it will do the reader good to hear. 

BORN TO THE BLUE. By Florence Kimball 

Russel. 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.25 

The atmosphere of army life on the plains breathes on 

every page of this delightful tale. The boy is the son of a 

captain of U. S. cavalry stationed at a frontier post in the 

days when our regulars earned the gratitude of a nation. 



Z. C. PAGE &- COMPANY'S 



IN WEST POINT GRAY 

By Florence Kimball Russel. 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 
" Singularly enough one of the best books of the year 
for boys is written by a woman and deals with life at West 
Point, The presentment of life in the famous military 
academy whence so many heroes have graduated is realistic 
and enjoyable." — 'New York Sun. 

THE SANDMAN: HIS FARM STORIES 

By William J, Hopkins. With fifty illustrations by 

Ada Clendenin Williamson. 

Large 12mo, decorative cover .... $1.50 

" An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of 
very small children. It should be one of the most popular 
of the year's books for reading to small children." — 
Buffalo Express. 

THE SANDMAN: MORE FARM STORIES 

By William J. Hopkins. 

Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50 

Mr. Hopkins's first essay at bedtime stories met with 

such approval that this second book of " Sandman " tales 

was issued for scores of eager children. Life on the farm, 

and out-of-doors, is portrayed in his inimitable manner. 

THE SANDMAN: HIS SHIP STORIES 

By William J. Hopkins, author of " The Sandman: 
His Farm Stories," etc. 

Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50 
" Children call for these stories over and over again." — 
Chicago Evening Post. 

THE SANDMAN: HIS SEA STORIES 

By William J. Hopkins. 

Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50 

Each year adds to the popularity of this unique series 

of stories to be read to the little ones at bed time and at 

other times. 

A— 6 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



A TEXAS BLUE BONNET 

By Emilia Elliott. 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 
This is the story of a warm-hearted, impulsive and breezy 
girl of the Southwest, who has lived all her life on a big 
ranch. She comes to the far East for a long visit, and her 
experiences "up North " are indeed delightful reading. 
Blue Bonnet is sure to win the hearts of all girl readers. 

THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL 

By Mabion Ames Taggart, author of " Pussy-Cat 

Town," etc. 

One vol., library 12mo, illustrated . . . $1.50 

A thoroughly enjoyable tale of a little girl and her com- 
rade father, written in a delightful vein of sympathetic 
comprehension of the child's point of view. 

SWEET NANCY 

The Further Adventures of the Doctor's Little 
Girl. By Marion Ames Taggart. 
One vol., library, 12mo, illustrated . . . $1.50 
In the new book, the author tells how Nancy becomes 

in fact " the doctor's assistant," and continues to shed 

happiness around her. 

CARLOTA 
A Story of the San Gabriel Mission. By Frances 
Margaret Fox. 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated 
in colors by Ethelind Ridgway , . . . $1.00 
"It is a pleasure to recommend this little story as an 

entertaining contribution to juvenile literature." — T/ie 

iVeiw York Sun. 

THE SEVEN CHRISTMAS CANDLES 

By Frances Margaret Fox. 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and deco- 
rated in colors by E. B. Barry .... $1.00 
Miss Fox's new book deals with the fortunes of the de- 
lightful Mulvaney children. 
SEVEN LITTLE WISE MEN 
By Frances Margaret Fox. 
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated in colors by 

E.B.Barry $1.00 

In this new story Miss Fox relates how seven little chil- 
dren, who lived in Sunny California, prepared for the great 
Christmas Festival. 
A— 7 



L. C. PAGE dr* COMPANY'S 



PUSSY-CAT TOWN 

By Mahion Ames Taggaht. 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and deco- 
rated in colors . . . . . . . . $1.00 

" Anything more interesting than the doings of the cats 
in this story, their humor, their wisdom, their patriotism, 
would be hard to imagine." — Chicago Post. 

THE ROSES OF SAINT ELIZABETH 

By Jane Scott Woodruff. 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated 
in colors by Adelaide Everhart . . , . $1.00 
This is a charming little story of a child whose father was 
caretaker of the great castle of the Wartburg. 

GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK 

By EvALEEN Stein. 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and deco- 
rated in colors by Adelaide Everhart . . . $1.00 
Gabriel was a loving, patient, little French lad, who 
assisted the monks in the long ago days, when all the books 
were written and illuminated by hand, in the monasteries. 

A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE 

By EvALEEN Stein. 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated in colors by 

Diantha Home Marlowe $1.00 

This is the story of Little lame Jean, a goatherd of 

Provence, and of the " golden goat " who is supposed 

to guard a hidden treasure. 

THE ENCHANTED AUTOMOBILE 

Translated from the French by Mary J S afford. 
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and deco- 
rated in colors by Edna M. Sawj^er . . . $1.00 
" An up-to-date French fairy-tale which fairly radiates 

the spirit of the hour, — unceasiQg diligence." — Chicago 

Record-Herald. 

O-HEART-SAN 

The Story of a Japanese Girl. By Helen Eggles- 
TON Haskell. 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and deco- 
rated in colors by Frank P. Fairbanks . . . $1.00 
" The story comes straight from the heart of Japan. 

From every page breathes the fragrance of tea leaves, 

cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums." — The Chicago 

Inter-Ocean. 

A— 8 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND; Or, The Ad- 
ventures OP Allan West. By Burton E. Stevenson 
bquare 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . $1 56 

_ Mr. Stevenson's hero is a manly lad of sixteen, who is 
given a chance as a section-hand on a big Western rail- 
road, and whose experiences are as real as they are thrilling. 

THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER. By Bur- 

TON E. Stevenson. 

Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1 50 

A better book for boys has never left an American 
press. — bpring field Union. 

THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER. By Burton E 

Stevenson. 

Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1 50 

Jslothing better in the way of a book of adventure for 
boys m which the actualities of life are set forth in a practi- 
cal way could be devised or written." — Boston Herald. 

CAPTAIN JACK LORIMER. By Winn Standish. 

Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1 50 

Jack is a fine example of the all-around American high- 
school boy. ^ 

JACK LORIMER'S CHAMPIONS; Or, Sports 

ON Land and Lake. By Winn Standish. 

Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1 50 

, It IS exactly the sort of book to give a boy interested 

m athletics, tor it shows him what it means to always 

play fair.' — Chicago Tribune. 

JACK LORIMER'S HOLIDAYS; Or, Millvale 
High in Camp. By Winn Standish. 

Illustrated SI 50 

Full of just the kind of fun, sports and adventure' to 

excite the healthy minded youngster to emulation. 

JACK LORIMER'S SUBSTITUTE; Or, The Act- 
iNG Captain of the Team. By Winn Standish. 

Illustrated $1 50 

On the sporting side, this book takes up football, wres- 
tling, tobogganing, but it is more of a school story perhaos 
than any ot its predecessors. 
A— 9 



L. C. PAGE &' COMPANY'S 



THE RED FEATHERS. By Theodore Roberts 
Cloth decorative, illustrated . . . . $1.50 

" The Red Feathers " tells of the remarkable adventures 

of an Indian boy who lived in the Stone Age, many years 

ago, when the world was yoimg. 

FLYING PLOVER. By Theodore Roberts. 
Cloth decorative. Illustrated by Charles Livingston 

Bull $1.00 

Squat-By-The-Fire is a very old and wise Indian who 

lives alone with her grandson, " Flying Plover," to whom 

she tells the stories each evening. 

COMRADES OF THE TRAILS. By G. E. 

Theodore Roberts. 

Cloth decorative. Illustrated by Charles Livingston 

Bull $1.50 

The story of a fearless young English lad, Dick Ramsey, 
who, after the death of his father, crosses the seas and 
takes up the life of a hunter and trapper in the Canadian 
forests. 

LITTLE WHITE INDIANS. By Fannie E. Os- 
trander. 

Cloth decorative, illustrated . . . . $1 .25 

" A bright, interesting story which will appeal strongly 
to the ' make-believe ' instinct in children, and will give 
them a healthy, active interest in ' the simple life.' " 

THE BOY WHO WON 

By Fannie E. Ostrander, author of " Little White 

Indians." 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by R. Farrington 

Elwell $1.25 

^ A companion volume to " Little White Indians " con- 
tinuing the adventures of the different " tribes," whose 
" doings " were so interest intilv told in the earlier volume. 
MARCHING WITH MORGAN. How Donald 

Lovell Became a Soldier of the Revolution. 

By John V. Lane. 

Cloth decorative, illustrated . . . . $1.50 

This is a splendid boy's story of the expedition of 
Montgomery and Arnold against Quebec. 
A^IO 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



COSY CORNER SERIES 

It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall 
contain only the very highest and purest literature, — 
stories that shall not only appeal to the children them- 
selves, but be appreciated by all those who feel with 
them in their joys and sorrows. 

The numerous illustrations in each book are by well- 
known artists, and each volume has a separate attract- 
ive cover design. 

Each 1 vol., 16mo, cloth $0.50 

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON 

THE LITTLE COLONEL (Trade Mark.) 

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its hero- 
ine IS a small girl, who is known as the Little Colonel 
on account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school 
Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family 
are famous in the region. 

THE GIANT SCISSORS 

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in 
France. Joyce is a great friend of the Little Colonel, 
and m later volumes shares with her the delightful ex- 
periences of the House Party " and the " Holidays." 

TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY 

Who Were the Little Colonel's Neighbors. 

In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an 
old friend but with added grace and charm. She is not, 
however, the central figure of the story, that place being 
taken by the " two little knights." 

MH.DRED'S INHERITANCE 

A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who 
comes to America and is befriended by a sympathetic 
Amencan family who are attracted by her beautiful 
speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is en- 
abled to help a school-girl who tas temporarily lost the 
use of her eyes, and thus finally her life becomes a busj. 
happy one. 

A- 11 



X. C. PAGE <*• COMPANY^ S 



By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON {Continued) 
CICELY AND OTHER STORIES FOR GIRLS 

The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles 
will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young 
people. 

AUNT »LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER STORIES 

A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal 
to all boys and most girls. 

BIG BROTHER 

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Stephen, 
himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of 
the simple tale. 

OLE MAMMY»S TORMENT 

" Ole Mammy's Torment " has been fitly called " a 
classic of Southern life." It relates the haps and mis- 
haps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by 
love and kindness to a knowledge of the right. 

THE STORY OF DAGO 

In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, 
a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago 
tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mis- 
haps is both interesting and amusing. 

THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT 

A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how 
it changed the course of his life many years after it WM 
accomplished 

FLIP'S ISLANDS OF PROVIDENCE 

A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his 
final triumph, weU worth the reading. 
A — 12 



BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 



By EDITH ROBINSON 
A LITTLE PURITAN'S FIRST CHRISTMAS 

A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christ- 
mas was invented by Betty Sewail, a typical child of the 
Puritans, aided by her brother Sam, 

A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY 

The author introduces this story as follows: 
" One ride is memorable in the early history of the 
American Revolution, the well-knowQ ride of Paul 
Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another 
ride, — the ride of Anthony Severn, — which was no less 
historic in its action or memorable in its consequences." 

A LOYAL LITTLE MAID 

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary 
days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders 
important services to George Washington. 

A LITTLE PURITAN REBEL 

This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time 
when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massa- 
chusetts. 

A LITTLE PURITAN PIONEER 

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement 
at Charlestown. 

A LITTLE PURITAN BOUND GIRL 

A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great 
interest to youthful readers. 

A LITTLE PURITAN CAVALIER 

The story of a " Little Puritan Cavalier " who tried 
with all his boyish enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and 
ideals of the dead Crusaders. 

A PURITAN KNIGHT ERRANT 

The story tells of a young lad in Colonial tim^ who 
endeavored to carry out the high ideals of the knights 
of olden days. 
A— 13 



Z. C. FACE &* COMPANY'S 



By OUIDA (Louise de la Ramee) , 

A DOG OF FLANDERS 

A Christmas Story 

Too well and favorably known to require description. 

THE NURNBERG STOVE 

This beautiful story has never before been published 
at a popular price. 

By FRANCES MARGARET FOX 

THE LITTLE GIANT»S NEIGHBOURS 

A charming nature story Df a " little giant " whose 
neighbors were the creatures of the field and garden. 

FARMER BROWN AND THE BIRDS 

A little story which teaches children that the birds are 
man's best friends. 

BETTY OF OLD MACKINAW 

A charming story of child life. 

BROTHER BILLY 

The story of Betty's brother, and some further advett- 
tures of Betty herself. 

MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

Curious little sketches d scribing the early lifetime, Odr 
*' childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors. 

HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO THE MUL- 

VANEYS 

A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children 
with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. 

THE COUNTRY CHRISTMAS 

Miss Fox has vividly described the happy surprises that 
made the occasion so memorable to the Mulvaneys, and 
the funny things the children did in their new environ- 
ment. 
A- 14 



«'■'» 14 3910 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



